A Virtual Third Season
by fenris unbound
Summary: A continuation of Hex, set five years after the conclusion of the second season. Contains scenes only suitable for mature teens and older.
1. The Shock of the New

As there's not going to be a third season of _Hex_, I've decided to take the bull by the horns, put my money where my mouth is, let my imagination run riot, and write my own.  
I started writing this Virtual Third Season sometime ago, and initially I was not confident about my ability to write lengthy passages of explanatory dialogue. Therefore, you will notice that in the first few episodes, instead of writing line after line of dialogue, I sometimes just summarise what the characters are discussing. I have thought about going back and rewriting these scenes, but eventually I decided to leave them as they are. I've also sometimes described camera movements and the way scenes have been shot, in order to create a more visual feel, as though I am describing an unscreened episode of _Hex,_ in addition to writing a prose story set in the Hexverse.  
Hope you enjoy my efforts. Any feedback - both positive and negative - is most welcome. More episodes to follow, time permitting.

**Episode #1: The Shock of the New.**

We see a pre-title sequence, consisting of footage from the climax of episode #13 of the second season: Medenham burning down, Roxy being sacrificed, Leon, Ella and Thelma fleeing. The screen fades to black. A caption reads 'That was five years ago.' Opening titles.

The episode proper begins during the transmission of a TV chat show, being broadcast in front of a live audience. The host is introducing his first guest, telling the audience both in the studio and at home that nobody had heard of this individual five years ago, but now he's a worldwide celebrity: he's written several best-selling 'self-help' books, and has established his own 'new age' religion – The New Church of the Angelic Messiah - with himself as it's guru. He has his own satellite channel that broadcasts his message across the world, 24 hours a day, and has built a network of churches, 'inspirational centres', and communes in several countries. Large corporations sponsor his stadium-filling evangelical tours, and the New Church has become fashionable amongst the famous, with various filmstars and pop singers becoming high profile members. The host announces that his guest is… Malachi Solomon.  
Malachi walks onto the stage. He's in a smart and conservative black suit, but is also wearing a colourful open-necked shirt, crocodile-skin boots, plus a chunky & expensive gold watch and jewellery (rings, neckchains, etc). He looks like a rock star unsuccessfully trying to pass himself off as an insurance salesman. Malachi and the host greet each other and sit down. The host mentions that Malachi had gotten married six months earlier, and asks how his wife is, how they're finding married life, etc. After about a minute of this amicable chit-chat, the host suddenly announces that it's time to bring on a surprise guest. He explains how this new guest came to public attention about a year ago, as the creator of a website which denounced the New Church as a brainwashing cult, and highlighted various discrepancies regarding the organisation's finances. The smile vanishes from Malachi's face as the host explains that the new guest has since become a minor celebrity himself, and has spent the last twelve months continuing his investigations and alleged exposures of Malachi and his followers, writing a series of articles about the New Church for several newspapers, and also being interviewed by an acclaimed journalist/film-maker for a high-profile documentary about questionable religions. The host introduces the guest as… Leon Taylor.  
Realising he's been ambushed, Malachi tries - and fails - to hide how uncomfortable he feels as Leon walks on and joins them on stage. Leon proceeds to confront Malachi with various allegations: that he's amassed a personal fortune from the donations of his many gullable followers – money that's been secreted away into off-shore bank accounts; of using funds that the New Church claim is going towards charitable works to personally acquire a substantial property portfolio; of buying second and third homes in foreign tax havens; that the New Church has invested in companies engaged in profitable weapons research and military contracts; and that members of the New Church indulge in secretive rituals involving sex and drug use. Leon also draws attention to the burning down of Medenham school five years earlier, claiming it was carried out by Malachi and his original followers, the 'Medenham set' who remain his inner circle.  
During this face-to-face debate, the host of the the show stays mostly silent, aware that this is good television. Malachi fields Leon's questions as best he can, trying to laugh off some of them, but getting increasingly flustered and angry. Eventually he breaks off the interview and storms off the set. Alex is waiting for him in the wings.

Outside the studio, Malachi and Alex climb into a waiting limousine, inside of which Jo is sitting. "Well, that was a disaster," an extremely annoyed Malachi complains. "I couldn't agree more," replies Jo, switching off the onboard TV on which she's been watching the show. From her tone of voice, Malachi realises she's talking about his handling of the situation. As the limousine moves off through the streets, there follows a heated discussion, with Malachi pointing out that he's been repeatedly insisting for the last twelve months – ever since Leon reappeared and started making trouble for the New Church – that they should just kill him (Leon). Jo coolly counters by reminding Malachi how clever Leon has been. By going public and making himself high profile, Leon has guaranteed his own safety: his sudden death or disappearance would cast further suspicion on the New Church.  
As the argument continues, we learn that due to Leon's exposures of the New Church, Malachi married Alex on Jo's orders, in an attempt to improve his public image and reinvent himself as a family man. But in private he still has a harem of willing and nubile followers to keep him entertained, whom Alex has grown increasingly jealous of.  
In addition, Jo is also getting angered by Malachi's insistence on enjoying his wealth & fame - and indulging in alcohol & drug fuelled orgies behind the closed doors of his country mansion - instead of getting on with the serious business of using the power and influence of the New Church to help bring about the apocalypse. Jo is especially concerned that there's been no sign of Ella – apart from a few rumoured sightings - for five years, but Leon's reappearance a year ago indicates that Ella is also still active, merely laying low. "The only thing worse than having Ella Dee out there somewhere, making trouble," Jo declares "is Ella Dee out there somewhere and keeping quiet."  
The discussion eventually turns to Malachi's latest mess, which Jo is having to clean up: still arrogantly convinced of his absolute power over women, a few days ago Malachi (despite Jo's disapproval) permitted an attractive & naive female member of the New Church named Beth to join his inner circle – the first time someone from outside the 'Medenham set' had done so. Horrified by what she discovered, Beth tried to escape. "Imagine" Jo sarcastically murmurs to Malachi, "learning that the man you idolise and worship is actually the Messiah of the Fallen Angels and his sole purpose on Earth is to bring about the end of the world. Who would have thought she wouldn't take it well?" (As this is discussed, we see a flashback. Beth, a frightened look on her face, is backing away from a smug and smiling Malachi. We next see a terrified Beth running down a corridor, only to be grabbed by two members of the Medenham set.) After being captured, Beth has been held prisoner in the New Church's London headquarters, a soulless, hi-tech, glass and steel monolith.  
The limousine arrives at said headquarters. Malachi tells Jo that he's bored, and intends to amuse himself for a few days by trying to corrupt Beth. If he fails, or grows tried of her, Jo can do what she wants with her.

Meanwhile, Leon returns to the cramped flat that doubles as his home and office, where we are introduced to a new character: Midge, a girl in her late teens/early twenties who helps Leon run his website. Midge is chatting to two girls who have been waiting for Leon. They explain that they're Beth's college room-mates, and they haven't heard from her in several days. Having failed to convince the police that something's wrong – and having been already concerned about her membership in the New Church - they decided to contact Leon after seeing his appearance on TV. The two students tell him that the last time they'd seen her, Beth had told them she had been granted a private audience with Malachi at the New Church's London headquarters. Leon takes Midge to one side and asks her if the girls are telling the truth. Midge tells him that the students' auras are a bit wobbly, but that could be because of how worried they are. Midge suggests that they need a second opinion. They turn and look expectedly at Thelma, who's sitting on a desk in front of the girls, wearing a cheerleader's outfit, swinging her legs back & forth (until this moment, Thelma hadn't been visible, and the viewer was under the impression that only Leon, Midge and the two students were in the room. Now it's clear that we were seeing the room through the eyes of the two girls, and Thelma's actually been there all along.). "Yep, they're on the level." Confirms Thelma, then she grins mischievously. "And the one on the left's gagging for it." Leon tells the girls that he cannot promise anything, but he knows some people who might be able to help their friend.

Cut to Malachi's penthouse apartment in the New Church's London headquarters, his home when he's away from his country pile. It's decorated in minimalist style: a few large, swept-back black leather chairs, various pieces of modern art either dotted about on the walls or positioned about the room. Malachi enters, wet from a shower and wearing just a towel. "Hello Malachi." Says a female voice. Malachi pauses, then turns, the look on his face indicating that he already knows who the speaker is. Roxy stands with her back to the penthouse's picture window, still wearing the clothes she died in. The cityscape visible behind her. It's dusk.  
"As if I didn't have enough women trouble," mutters Malachi. "For the hundredth time Rox, I don't want your forgiveness, I don't want you trying to save my soul. It's been five years. I would've thought you'd gotten the message by now."  
Roxy's sad but patience expression doesn't change. "There is still good within you, Malachi." She says. "I can feel it."  
Malachi manages a laugh; "The only thing of mine you've felt was the knive I gutted you with." He sneers dismissively.  
Roxy ignores him; "Your time to seek redemption is short." She patiently declares. "Soon I won't be able to help you."  
"Good!" yells Malachi over his shoulder, as he wanders off towards the bedroom.  
"Malachi" murmurs Roxy "she's coming."  
Malachi stops in his tracks, and spins round, but Roxy is gone.

Back at Leon's flat, Midge is showing the students out. Leon and Thelma discuss how they've spent the last five years covertly investigating how some of the New Church's various charitable activites are merely a front for assorted schemes designed to accelerate the End of Days. They've got all the information they need to take the fight to them (the New Church), and have known for the last few months that they were merely waiting for the right moment to commence direct action. Leon tosses Thelma a mobile phone, and she rings a number on speed-dial.

Cut to a darkened room somewhere else. A figure can be seen in silhouette, sitting in the lotus position, meditating. A mobile phone propped up in the foreground lights up and starts ringing. While otherwise remaining perfectly still, the figure reaches out one arm, picks up the phone and brings it to the side of their face. We hear Thelma's voice on the other end; "It's me." The ghost states simply. The camera pulls back, revealing the figure to be Ella. She opens her eyes and smiles.

We see the sun rise, indicating that it's the next day.  
Inside the New Church's London headquarters, where Beth is being held, Jo walks down a corridor. Elsewhere in the building, Alex waits for an elevator: it arrives and she gets in. There's someone standing to one side in the elevator, but Alex doesn't pay them any attention. Meanwhile, Jo (walking towards the camera) passes someone going the other way. Suddenly Jo stops, a look of surprise on her face, as though having just realised something. She turns and looks at the other person, who's still walking away from her. Sensing they're being stared at, the other person slows, stops, and turns to look at Jo. It's Thelma. "You look as though you've seen a ghost." The spectre declares with a beaming smile. Elsewhere, the elevator stops and the doors open. "Is this your floor?" Asks the person standing next to Alex. The succubus glances in their direction and starts to say no, but stops when she realises the other person is Ella. Before Alex has a chance to react, Ella unleaches a punch that hits her square in the face. Alex slams against the wall of the elevator and drops to the floor. Elsewhere, Thelma runs off down the corridor while Jo contacts the New Church's internal security on her mobile. Having realised instantly that Thelma's appearance means an attempt is being made to rescue Beth, Jo orders security to move Beth to Malachi's private mansion in the countryside immediately. Two members of the 'Medenham set' remove Beth from her room and – as she protests, struggles and demands to know where they're taking her – manhandle her into the underground car park beneath the building, where they throw her into the back of a van and lock her inside. They are then ambushed by Ella, who – after a brief and very one-sided fight - knocks them both out, takes the keys for the van, and drives off. Several floors above, Jo has arrived in the building's security room in time to see this on CCTV. She orders the car park's shutters to be lowered, blocking all exits and entrances. As the heavy metal shutters start to descend, Thelma appears holding Ella's Volta staff. She expertly unleashes a bolt of energy at the electrical junction box situated next to the main exit, frying the circuits and halting the shutters. "What was that?" yells the security co-ordinator, unable to see Thelma. "She's been practising." Jo murmurs, ignoring him. The ex-teacher watches as Thelma blows a kiss to the CCTV camera, and gets into the van. Ella drives out of the building at speed, the van's roof scraping the shutter.

Cut to the bedroom of Malachi's penthouse apartment on the building's top floor. Malachi is lying on his vast black silk sheet covered bed. Four nubile young female followers in their underwear are sprawled either alongside him or across him, all asleep. The double doors of the room swing open unaided, and Jo walks in, followed by Alex – who's holding a icepack to the side of her face and looking murderous. Their entrance wakens everyone. Alex glares at Malachi's bedmates. "Leave." She hisses. The girls hastily grab their disgarded clothes off the floor and scamper out. Still half-asleep, Malachi notices Alex's swollen face. "What happened to you?" He asks.  
"Ella Dee." Mutters Alex angrily. Suddenly fully awake, Malachi sits upright and looks dumbstuck as Jo explains; "She and her little dead friend came and took your plaything away."  
The camera goes for a close up on Malachi. We hear Roxy's voiceover; "_She's coming_."

Cut to Leon's flat-cum-office. Leon, Midge, Thelma and Ella have a brief chat, from which we learn that by making use of various contacts, Leon & Midge have created a new identity in another part of the country for Beth, including all the documentation she needs, so she can permanently escape Malachi's clutches. They decided it wouldn't be fair for her to go public as Leon did, as she would never again have a normal life – at least not until Malachi and the New Church have been defeated, and who knows how long that will be?

Final scene: Jo sits in a visiting room in a mental asylum, telling a patient that Ella and Thelma are active again, briefly summarising what happened, and then mentioning that; "There's trouble brewing again in the Balkans." The scene is shot so the viewer can't see who the patient is.


	2. Apocalypse 2 point 0

**Episode #2: Apocalypse 2.0**

_Previously on Hex_: We see brief clips from the first episode - Malachi being introduced on the chat show as the founder of the New Church; Leon being introduced as a debunker; Malachi's uneasiness in the face of Leon's accusations; Jo telling Malachi that if anything happens to Leon, it would cause suspicion; Ella surprising Alex in the lift and hitting her.

A black car slowly passes a large, slightly rundown-looking townhouse in an unassuming urban street. The car pulls in and parks further down the road. The doors open and four people get out, all dressed in black: Alex (whose face is still bruised) and three members of 'the Medenham set' - two well-built young men and a dark haired girl named Shannon. With Alex leading, they walk back towards the townhouse. Malachi's mark can be glimpsed on their necks. They reach the front door, which opens directly onto the street. There's a metal panel to one side, containing almost a dozen doorbell buttons: the townhouse has been converted into flats. Alex looks about, up and down the street, as though expecting to see someone or something, but everything's quiet. No movement. She's ruffled by this, but hides it well. She turns and starts running her finger down over the labels alongside each button  
"So this is it?" Asks Shannon, as Alex's finger stops at FLAT 5: L. TAYLOR.  
"We traced him here shortly after he launched his website" confirms Alex. "We've kept him under occasional surveillance ever since, depending on how much of a threat he seemed. After Ella's escapade yesterday, I assigned Guy to watch the place until we arrived."  
As she speaks, Alex moves aside and one of the young men steps forward, crouches down and starts to pick the lock. Although the street is empty, Alex, Shannon and the other man flank him, so what he's doing can't be seen.  
"Guy was supposed to join us when we arrived, but I can't see him or the van." Murmurs Alex. "Be careful, everyone."  
The door opens, the foursome enter, and head up the stairs. The two men lead, followed by Shannon and then Alex.  
The next shot is from inside Leon's flat, looking straight at the door. Suddenly it's collapsing into the flat, torn off it's hinges, and the two men trample over it in their haste to gain entry. The men round a corner, entering the (cramped & small) main living area, and suddenly stop in their tracks, looking at something off-camera. Shannon follows them and also halts, the look of their faces indicating they're not quite sure how to react to what they've found. Alex brings up the rear. As she joins the others, we finally see what they've discovered: the room has been stripped, any furniture removed. Leon has flown the coop. The only thing left is Thelma, standing in the centre of the room, a big smile on her face, wearing her cheerleader's uniform and holding a pair of poms-poms to her chest. Unlike the others, Alex isn't phased. She moves past Shannon and inbetween the two males to stand a few feet in front of Thelma, who breaks into a routine;  
"Give me a T! Give me an O! Give me another O! Give me a L, A, T, E! You're toooooooooo LATE!" She cheers, shaking the pom-poms a few inches in front of Alex's face.  
"Where are Ella and Leon, Thelma?" Alex hisses.  
"Charming." Exclaims Thelma, "No 'Hello Thelma, how are you? Long time no see. Love the outfit.' On no, it's all straight to business with you."  
"Are you going to tell me?" Demands Alex.  
Thelma stops smiling. "I'll tell you one thing. Sometimes being able to see the spirit world isn't all it's cracked up to be." The ghost remarks. "And in a moment you're really going to regret not being able to see through me…"  
Thelma steps to one side, revealing directly behind her a high-backed chair facing Alex and the others. On the seat of the chair a large paint can has been propped up at a 60 degree angle. The can is lidless, and filled not with paint, but a dark powder. Sitting next to the can is a cheap digital clock and behind it, a large battery with twin terminals. Instead of showing the time, the clock's display is counting down: 00:05, 00:04. Alex sees spiralling insulated wires leading from the clock, to the terminals, to the bottom of the can. Her eyes flash golden yellow. 00:03.  
"Protect me!" She yells, her voice containing an unnaturally deep tone.  
00:02. The two men grab Alex by the waist and jerk her backwards (so violently they lift her off her feet), twisting round as they do so, trying to cover her with their bodies.  
00:01. Alex lands on her backside, the two men between her and the chair. Shannon throws herself over her. 00:00. BOOM! There's a muffled explosion and the powder in the tin blasts out into the room, covering everything in front of the chair. Through the clouds of powder, screaming and yelling can be heard. The powder storm starts to clear. Completely untouched, Thelma walks up to Alex's group. The two men are completely covered in the powder, both curled up on the floor, choking, clawing at their faces, unable to open their eyes, screaming in agony. Shannon is rolling about, shrieking in pain, frantically scratching her exposed arms and screaming that she's burning and she can't see. Alex gets shakily to her feet, covered in just a light dusting of the powder. Grabbing the waistline of the top she's wearing, she rips off a large strip of material and uses the unexposed side to wipe the thin layer of dust from her face and neck, then shakes her head to try to get it out of her hair.  
"Isn't it amazing what you can do" says Thelma "with a tiny amount of gunpowder from a few fireworks, and a tin filled with St John's Wort?" She adds extra emphasis to the last three words, staring unblinkingly at Alex as she does so.  
As her underlings continue to writhe around on the floor, Alex glares at Thelma through air still heavy with dust. She goes to speak, but suddenly coughs instead. And coughs again. Then a third time, more violently. She looks at Thelma, pain and panic starting to show in her eyes. Thelma leans in, and talks as though to a child; "You do realise you're breathing it in right now, don't you?"  
In Alex's face, we see the realisation hit. Huge, hacking coughs erupt from her, one after another. She can't stop herself. She bends almost double, then collapses to her knees, her body racked with a gutwretchingly painful coughing spasm.  
"You know, this is even more fun that I thought it would be." Says Thelma cheerfully.  
Opening titles.

We see a street of large terraced houses. A large black van is parked outside one house, with it's rear doors open. Midge is lifting a couple of cardboard boxes out the vehicle. Within said house, Ella and Leon are in the main living area of a small, self-contained, basement flat, trying to shove/lift/pull a double mattress through a doorway into a tiny side room.  
"It was nice of the New Church to loan us a van." Mutters Leon. "I would have had to leave some stuff behind otherwise. It's almost a shame we've got to dump it somewhere once we've finished."  
After a brief struggle they manoeuvre the mattress through the door, and lower it onto the floor of the room. Once it's laid flat, there's barely a foot of space between it and the walls on all four sides. On two opposing walls, lengths of clothes line have been strung up, supporting some of Ella's outfits on hangers, but otherwise the room is bare.  
"This was where I used to meditate." Explains Ella, "It'll be our room now."  
"I'm really sorry about this, Ella." Says Leon, but Ella waves his apology away.  
"It's not a problem." The Anointed One insists. "We knew that your flat wouldn't be safe once I showed my face again. I've been here for two years, and Malachi and his circus haven't located me so far. But we'll have to be prepared to move again at short notice, if need be."  
Leon nods. He steps closer.  
"I know we've discussed this before," he says "but I just want to say that I know where I stand, in regards to you, to us. I gave you a lot of grief at Medenham, wanting you to put us first. But I understand now. The mission comes first. It has to. We'll just try to grab what moments we can."  
Ella smiles, steps up to him, and they hold each other. She looks up at him.  
"The mission comes first." She confirms. Leon grins.  
"Putting trying to save the world and the human race before our lovelife," he says "I don't think anyone can accuse us of not having our priorities in the right order."  
"Speaking of grabbing what moments we can…" Murmurs Ella suggestively.  
They laugh and kiss. Midge appears in the doorway, laden down with boxes.  
"Where do you want these?" She asks.  
"Put them in the corner Midge. We'll go through them later." Says Leon.  
He and Ella kiss again. Behind them, through the doorway to the rest of the flat, we see two pom-poms being thrown across. Then Thelma pokes her head around, before stepping into the doorway. She has a box under one arm and is holding a standard lamp with her other hand.  
"If you two are going to have sex, would you mind closing the door first?" She says.  
"Thelma! How did it go? Did the New Church turn up as expected?" Asks Ella.  
Thelma looks at the two of them still embracing.  
"You know what, I'll tell you later. After you've caught up on some quality time." Thelma declares, grinning.  
Leon reaches out and shuts the door. Thelma looks about for somewhere to put the box and the lamp, and finds a spot. Giggling can be heard coming from behind the door. "C'mon Midge," says Thelma, "Let's go for a walk and give the lovebirds some privacy."

Cut to a nearby park. Thelma is sitting on a bench by a large pond. Midge walks up holding a paper bag and with a newspaper tucked under one arm. She holds the bag out to Thelma;  
"Got you some sausage rolls."  
"Hey, thanks." Says Thelma, as Midge joins her on the bench and starts reading her paper. The ghost dives into the bag and starts scoffing one of the rolls.  
"So, what's happening in the world?" Asks Thelma with her mouth full.  
"The usual" Midge replies, as we can see that the headline of the paper reads 'War Imminent in Balkans?' "Another major charity's been forced to close due to a unprecedented slump in donations. That's the fourth this year. The divorce rate has skyrocked and has already overtaken last year's figures. Crime's also up again. And there's social unrest, rioting, armed uprising, and civil wars taking place at record levels on every continent. Or did you want the bad news?"  
"It's Malachi." Mumbles Thelma, still eating. "The worse things great, the more people turn to him. The more followers he gets, the more powerful he becomes. And the more powerful he becomes, the more his presense influences everything. He's affecting events, making the human race become more selfish, more greedy, more angry, more prone to violence. He's like a cancer on the entire planet."  
They sit in silence. A duck waddles up to the bench. Thelma bends down and tosses it a piece of pastry.  
"Quack quack." Says Thelma. The duck devours the pastry and waddles off.  
"Do you know that some animals can see me?" Thelma chats. "Well, maybe not see me, exactly, but I'm sure they can sense that I'm around. Dogs can. Not sure about cats though, but cats only ever seem interested in themselves, so I can't tell if they're ignoring me or not."  
This leads to a conversation about how Midge is psychic and has been able to see ghosts since she was a little girl – strange people who used to stand around, but whom nobody talked to. As a child, she didn't realise this was out of the ordinary, and thought that everybody could see them. She only became aware of how unique she was shortly before becoming a teenager. Midge and Thelma then discuss how they first met, two years ago, when Midge attended a séance that Thelma was hanging out at for a laugh.

Cut to the New Church's London headquarters. Malachi enters the building's small but well equipped medical wing. Everything is gleaming white or polished metal. He stands next to Jo, and they look through a glass wall at Alex, who's in a bed wearing a oxygen mask, apparently unconscious. Her face is slightly red and enflamed. A nurse wearing a face mask and a disposable apron and gloves is carefully picking up Alex's dust-covered clothes one item at a time, and placing them in a container marked 'Medical Waste. Hazardous'.  
"What happened?" Asks Malachi.  
"Some kind of booby trap. St. John's Wort." Explains Jo, in the clear tones of the schoolteacher she used to be. "I arranged for private ambulances to bring them here."  
"Will she be alright?" Murmurs Malachi. Jo half-turns her head and looks at him.  
"You sound as though you almost care." She comments.  
"Just tell me, Jo." He mutters angrily.  
"What were they doing there, Malachi?" Quizzes Jo. "I've told you that Leon Taylor is off-limits. If anything happens to him, it'll raise too many questions. Ella's reappearance doesn't change that."  
"I knew nothing about it." Insists Malachi, not too convincingly, trying to slip into salesman mode. "Alex must've taken it personally when Ella hit her yesterday. You know what she's like. She never thinks things through."  
Jo regards him coolly for a moment, then turns to look back at Alex.  
"She has serious irritation in her throat and lungs, and they had to sedate her, but she should make a full recovery." Jo reports, then she walks alongside the glass wall. Malachi follows, and they come to the next room. It's identical to the one containing Alex, but with several monitors beeping. Shannon lies still in bed, also wearing an oxygen mask, with her arms and hands bandaged, and another bandage across her eyes, holding dressings in place.  
"Shannon received heavier exposure." Explains Jo. "The damage to her throat and lungs is more serious, but she should heal, given time. They also don't think there will be any permanent scarring to her face or arms. Oh, and they'll fairly confident they can save the sight in at least one eye."  
"What about the two who were with them? And the other one, Guy?" Asks Malachi.  
"Guy was found tied up and unconscious in the bathroom of the flat." Reports Jo. "He has a slight concussion, nothing more. The van he using to stake out the building is missing. It's been reported to the police. As for the others..." Jo turns and looks him unblinkingly in the eye.  
"Nothing can be done." She declares. "They've been sedated. I'll take care of it. You should prepare yourself. You may have more followers now, but the loss of two incubus…"  
Malachi nods a little too quickly, failing to disguise how apprehensive he is. He's sweating slightly.  
"Why is it so stuffy in here?" He mutters.  
"I had the air-conditioning turned off throughout the building." Says Jo. "These rooms" she nods towards Alex and Shannon. "are sealed, but they had to be transported through open corridors when they were brought here. A clean-up crew is on it, but we don't want to risk any particles drifting about."  
"Good thinking." Murmurs Malachi, then he walks off, quickly.  
Jo smiles enigmatically, then turns and approaches a set of heavy double doors at the end of the wing, which open unaided. She passes through them and faces another set of doors. She waits until the doors behind her close, then the second set open with an audible hiss. In the room Jo enters, the two members of the Medenham set who received the heaviest dose of St John's Wort are lying in single beds placed next to each other. Both men lie still, are wearing oxygen masks, and are connected to a heart monitor each. Their faces are extremely swollen, their skin an angry and painful-looking shade of red. Jo walks inbetween the two beds, turns, and places a hand on each man's chest. "In case you ever wondered what happens to your soul, boys," She murmurs "they come to me."  
Both men's bodies jerk suddenly. The monitors start beeping rapidly, the readouts spiking with more and more frequency, the men's bodies keep twitching, and the florescent light in the ceiling flickers once, then glares extra bright. Jo lifts her hands off their chests – and immediately the readings flatline, the light returns to normal, the men are immobile, and the monitors emit a single endless note. As Jo raises her hands, we see that she's clutching a small, hazy, formless mass of glowing energy in each one.

Cut to Malachi walking hurriedly into his penthouse apartment. Suddenly he cries out in pain, clutches his chest, and almost collapses onto the floor. He falls down onto one knee, and the camera pans across and up, to show Roxy gazing down at him sadly.

Cut back to the medical wing, Jo presses the men's lifeforce to her chest, absorbing them into her body. She shuts her eyes, shuddering, and gives a heavy sigh of satisfaction. She stands there for a moment, then opens her eyes and collects herself. The monitors are still issuing their single note. She switches each of them off with a glance, then leaves the room.

Cut to Ella's flat. Apart from what is now her and Leon's room, the only other rooms are a tiny bathroom, in which a sink, a toilet and a shower all jostle for space, and the main living area. The latter room contains a two-seater sofa that's seen better days, a chair and a battered desk on which a computer sits, and a collection of boxes piled dangerously high in the corner, with a few other boxes crammed into whatever space remains. In addition, one end of the room is the kitchen area: a metal sink and draining board, a couple of cupboards with the doors hanging off, and a shelf which is home to a secondhand microwave oven.  
Ella and Leon are sharing the sofa, Midge has the chair by the desk, and Thelma sits on the draining board, her legs hanging over the side. Midge recounts that six months ago, she was contacted by an on-line friend, a teenage computer programmer called Flo who believes there's something underhand going on at WitZends Programs, the software company where she works. She's seen a woman visiting the company's headquarters to meet with the chief executive, and has recognised her – from photographs on Leon's website – as being Jo. Midge explains that she and Leon have done some digging and discovered that the business is owned (via a chain of dummy corporations) by the New Church. Thelma volunteers to go snooping round the company's premises.

That night, Thelma hangs around outside the office building in question. As the last employee leaves, she simply runs through the automated door before it shuts and one of the security guards locks it. The camera lingers on a sign that Thelma hadn't noticed in her rush to enter the building: 'Warning: Guard Dogs Running Free.' Making her way to the chief executive's office, Thelma picks the lock on his desk drawer and finds within a disc labelled 'Apollyon.' After quickly copying the disc using the executive's own PC, and returning the original to the drawer, Thelma's then discovered by a pair of guard dogs roaming free in the building, who raise the alarm with their barking. Although the security guards who swiftly arrive to investigate what's disturbed the dogs cannot see Thelma, she's forced to leave.

Back at the flat, by using the name on the disc as a password, Midge & Leon manage to hack into WitZends Programs' system. Several files are in code, but the disc Thelma copied contains the key to deciphering them. Midge & Leon discover that the company has just finished work on perfecting a virus that is stored on it's main server, and is about to be encoded into all the new lines of software they're due to release in a month's time. Ella recognises ancient spells forming part of the virus's code, making it undetectable & unstoppable. The virus is designed to infect every computer it comes into contact with, multiple and spread, then stay dormant until the New Church's website releases an activation code as the End of Days draws near, causing millions of computer systems across the world to irretrievably crash, sending mankind into panic and chaos.  
"So what do we do?" Asks Thelma.  
Ella pauses for a moment, thinking things through.  
"We need to go to a builder's merchant." She declares.

Cut to the bedroom of Malachi's penthouse apartment. Malachi is in his vast bed with his four harem girls, the Malachiettes. He's lying awake, looking thoughtful but very pleased with himself, while they are sleeping. The double doors of the room open unaided and Jo walks in. She surveys the scene.  
"Don't get up." She murmurs.  
"What can I do for you, Jo?" He asks, with his usual, cocky, partly dismissive smile.  
"There was a disturbance at WitZends Programs last night." Reports Jo. "It could be nothing, but I thought I'd send an incubus to oversee things there."  
"Anyone in mind?" Yawns Malachi.  
"Guy. It'll do him good to go back out in the field after his encounter with Ella." Says Jo.  
"Putting him straight back on the saddle, you mean?" Ponders Malachi. "Okay, see to it."

Cut to the premises of WitZends Programs that night, as Ella, Leon, Midge and Thelma successfully break into the building. Thelma is carrying a large & cumbersome reel of thin copper wire over her shoulder. Ella & Thelma head for the roof, while Leon & Midge run off through the building, deliberately attracting the attention of the guard dogs. On the roof, while Ella prepares a incantation, Thelma ties one end of the copper wire to the aerial that is the building's highest point, then ventures downstairs, unravelling the wire as she goes. Meanwhile, Leon & Midge are running all over the building with the hounds and the security guards – lead by Guy - in pursuit, nearly getting caught several times. With the wire unwound behind her, Thelma reaches the server room, gains entry with a pass code hacked by Midge & Leon, and wraps the remaining wire repeatedly around the main server. She then telephones Ella on her mobile, and tells her that's everything's set.  
However, Guy has realised that Leon and Midge are merely a diversion. He orders the guards to keep after them, then heads to the server room.  
Using the incantation that her father, John Dee, once used to prolong his life via electricity, Ella summons a bolt of lightning. Dark storm-clouds gather over the building, directly above her.  
Down in the server room, Guy bursts in and discovers Thelma. Seeing the wire, he realises what's happening and lunges at the length strung tautly between the door to the room and the server.  
"Ella, do it now!" Yells Thelma into the phone.  
At that moment, a massive bolt of lightning erupts down from the sky and strikes the aerial. The immense electrical charge travels along the copper wire threaded throughout the building, down several floors, and fries the server. A streak of electricity arcs out from the wire and hits Guy in the chest, violently throwing him backwards to crash through one of the room's large glass walls. The wire instantly melts with the heat, causing fires throughout the building, and the sprinkler system kicks in. Leon, Midge and Ella escape in the confusion, while an ecstatic Thelma spins and dances along the drenched corridors.

The following morning, fire engines and police cars crowd the street outside the WitZends Programs building. A limousine pulls up and Jo steps out. A pair of paramedics are carrying an unconscious Guy out of the building, strapped down on a stretcher. They place him in the back of a waiting ambulance. His face is badly burnt.  
"Can I have a moment with him?" She asks the paramedics.  
As one of them goes to say something, Jo's eyes glimmer a faint red. The paramedic's eyes go distant for a second, then focus again as though nothing's happened.  
"Sure," he says, "but try to be quick. He's very weak and - I don't want to alarm you, but his condition is serious."  
Jo nods and steps into the ambulance. Leaning over Guy, she softly places her hand on his chest. The paramedics remain standing out in the street. A couple of seconds pass. We hear sirens, car doors slamming, various voices overladen.  
"Miss, I'm sorry, but we have to take him now." The paramedic says.  
Jo turns, and we see her removing her hand from her chest.  
"Thank you." She says, emerging from the ambulance.  
"Do you want to go with him to the hospital?" The paramedic asks. Jo smiles politely.  
"That won't be necessary." She says, and walks off towards her limousine.

Cut to Malachi sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping in pain.

Final scene: Jo is visiting the patient at the mental asylum. Again, we can't see who the patient is.  
"To lose one incubus would be bad luck." Jo comments, "To lose three – within two days – well, that just smacks of carelessness. I have a meeting with our associate tomorrow. I would say that things are getting very interesting indeed."


	3. Life During Wartime

**Episode #3: Life During Wartime.**

Previously on Hex: clips from the first episode – Malachi introduced on the chat show as the founder of the New Church; Ella hitting Alex in the lift; Malachi asking Alex "What happened to you?", her reply "Ella Dee" and Malachi's reaction; Jo saying "There's trouble brewing in the Balkans. Clips from the second episode – Midge reading a newspaper with the headline 'War imminent in Balkans?' Thelma saying "It's Malachi/his presense influences everything. He's affecting events, making the human race become/ more prone to violence." Alex coughing violently after inhaling St John's Wort. Jo telling the person she's visiting at the asylum: "I have a meeting with our associate tomorrow. I would say that things are getting very interesting indeed."

A small, rundown seaside town, off-season. Jo walks along the seafront. The sky is overcast, the grey sea crashes angrily against the seawall. It's early in the morning and there's nobody else in sight. Jo reaches a rusty, decaying pier, the entrance to which is fenced off. Beyond the barrier, derelict and empty amusement arcades and candy floss stands sit abandoned. A sign on the fence reads 'Warning. No entry. Unsafe structure. Scheduled for demolition.' Opposite the pier is a row of small and crowded novelty & gift shops, all closed now that summer's over, shutters down and paint faded and peeling. Nested amongst the shops is a seedy-looking café with dusty windows. Jo ventures inside. A bored looking teenage girl, wearing a cheap plastic apron with a flowery motif, is leaning with her elbows on the counter at the back of the café, leafing through a magazine. The only other person inside the café is a female customer in a long, dark crimson leather overcoat, sitting at one of the tables with her back to the door.  
"One tea, please." Says Jo to the girl, who reluctantly shifts into life.  
Jo sits down at the same table as the customer, directly opposite her. The woman has long sleek jet black hair, all the way down to her waist, and bright, vivid green eyes.  
"Jo." Says the woman in greeting.  
"Lilith." Replies Jo, momentarily lowering her head and closing her eyes in deference.  
They wait until the girl brings Jo her tea and then retreats back behind the counter. Lilith has an identical cup in front of her. Neither woman touches them.  
"So. How goes the search?" Asks Lilith.  
"As expected. We're locating pages at the rate predicted. Currently, there's no reason to expect we won't continue on schedule." Reports Jo.  
"And the search for the other item?" Enquires Lilith.  
"It's proving elusive. We've recently found a fourth generation copy, which indicates we're getting closer to the source."  
Lilith gazes into her tea, considering what Jo has told her, then nods, satisfied.  
"How are the talks proceeding?" Asks Jo.  
"Well." States Lilith. "An agreement has almost been reached. There are just a few minor terms to sort out, a few side issues. Nothing of real importance. In fact, everything is so close to being finalised, that - as a sign of good faith – one of my people has been assigned to you."  
"I'm honoured." Says Jo, then she pauses, clearly choosing her words carefully: "Though I'm not too sure I'm actually in need of much assistance. Everything so far has gone quite smoothly."  
Lilith reaches across the table and puts a sisterly hand on Jo's. "It's just to help oil the wheels." Lilith states reassuringly. "No reflection on how you're handling things. Hell is pleased. But there's still time for something unexpected to occur. I understand that the Annointed One has re-emerged?"  
Jo nods. "Ella Dee." The ex-teacher confirms. "I'm hoping to use her interference to our advantage. However, there's always the chance that a wild card such as her could prove… problematic."  
"Then it's agreed." Says Lilith. "You can expect my brethren to arrive at noon, the day after tomorrow."  
Lilith and Jo both rise and leave the café. The weather is unchanged, but the ocean has calmed down considerably. Waves still swell against the seawall. Apart from the two women, the sea front is empty. Lilith gazes thoughtfully at the condemned pier.  
"I've heard that the laws and regulations of this land mean it can take months before deciding on the best way to tear down such a structure." Lilith says, conversationally. "I've always believed in taking a direct approach…"  
She tilts her head back slightly and issues forth a strange, high-pitched call that no human vocal cords could ever produce. It wavers and resonates at several different pitches and tones simultaneously. Out at sea, ten huge tentacles suddenly erupt out of the water, either side of the pier. Moving incredibly swiftly, the tentacles smash through the empty buildings and wooden base of the pier, wrap themselves around the structure's metal legs and cross-girders, then flex and pull the pier apart with such force that it practically explodes. The tentacles whip back between the waves. All that remains where the pier stood is a cloud of dust. Debris that was thrown aloft – planks of wood, pieces of metal – is raining down, splashing into the surf. An echoing, unearthly cry can be heard wailing out from under the sea.  
"There, there." Murmurs Lilith in reply. "Mother is pleased."  
"Impressive." Says Jo with a wry smile, surveying the destruction.  
"It's good to keep him occupied." Explains Lilith with a slight shrug. "You know how children are."  
Opening titles.

We see the sun rise, indicating that a day has passed since the pre-title sequence, followed by an exterior shot of the New Church's London headquarters, then we cut inside to the bedroom of Jo's quarters. It's a sizable room, not as large as Malachi's bedroom, filled with heavy oak furniture, with the wood so darkened that it's practically black. The centrepiece of the room is a huge four-poster bed, the banisters boasting beautiful carvings depicting demons forcing themselves upon naked maidens. Five outfits are laid out on the bed, all dark and somber colours: three are black, one dark purple, the other is dark green. Three large wardrobes line up against one wall, while against the opposite wall is a chest of drawers, and a grand dressing table with an oval antique mirror, accompanied by an equally valuable chair with red velvet seat and backing. There's also a full length mirror on a blackened oak frame and stand, which is pulled out into the room. Next to the mirror, facing the foot of the bed, is the only modern item of furniture in the room: a vast red leather sofa. Jo is standing in front of the full length mirror, wearing only a sleek, black silk camisole and matching panties. She's holding a jade earring up to one ear, and a ruby earring to the other, trying to decide which is best suits her. Behind her, Malachi wanders in, complete with his usual cocky smile. He's wearing black leather trousers and a t-shirt that resembles an explosion in a paint factory. Jo sees him in the mirror, but doesn't turn round.  
"You seem remarkably relaxed, Malachi, considering that Ella's back on the scene." She comments.  
"I'm not worried about her." He shrugs.  
"Really? That's not how it seemed when Alex and I informed you of her return a few days ago." Counters Jo.  
(We see a brief flashback of Malachi sitting bolt upright in bed upon hearing Ella's name in Episode #1.)  
"That was just because it was a surprise." He declares. " I mean, think about it – Ella couldn't kill me five years ago when I had just the pupils of Medenham worshipping me. Now I've got a couple of dozen million followers spread across nineteen countries, and counting. I'm practically invulnerable. You know," he says conversationally "last week I deliberately tried to cut myself while shaving, just to test myself." He pauses for effect. "The blade couldn't penetrate my skin. On the downside, it means I can't get any more tattoos."  
Jo ignores him, apparently disinterested. Malachi casts a blatantly admiring eye over her semi-clad body. He puts a nostalgic tone into his voice;  
"This brings back memories. You, me, in your bedroom. We were always good together." He says. " Sometimes I wonder…when you decreed that I had to get married in the name of good P.R, why did you decide to make me get hitched to Alex and not you?"  
"It was best for you to get married to someone your own age." Says Jo simply, still with her back to him.  
Malachi laughs; "My own age? I'm barely six years old!" He scoffs.  
A pause. He moves closer to her.  
"Do you know you're my first memory? You, looking after me when I was small. I don't remember my real mother at all." He remarks.  
"Cassie. Nice girl." Says Jo, then she gives Malachi a sideways glance. "You wouldn't have liked her. Not your type."  
"So," Malachi continues, unphased "I guess this means you're the closest thing I've got to a parent, 'specially since Dad left. Perhaps that's why we were so good together. There was always just a hint that we were doing something really…"  
Jo turns and faces him. They're standing just a couple of feet apart.  
"Wicked? Sinful? Taboo? Or just plain wrong?" She suggests.  
"All of the above." He smiles.  
Jo turns back to the mirror and continues comparing earrings.  
"Since we're reminiscing, tell me…how long has it been since we shared any quality time together?" He interjects.  
"If you're feeling amorous, Malachi," signs Jo, "run off and find one of your quartet of willing sluts. Or better yet, perhaps you should consider actually sleeping with your wife for a change."  
"She's still amongst the walking wounded at the moment, you know that." Chides Malachi. "Besides, Alex and the others, they're just little girls. And that's fine, most of the time. But what a man like me really needs is a mature, experienced woman. Like you."  
He steps next to her, up close. His hand is suddenly underneath her camisole, moving across her stomach then upwards, as he leans in and starts to nuzzle her neck. His other hand slips down over the small of her back, fingers caressing where her smooth skin meets the sheer silk of her panties.  
"No-one else has come close, Jo." He whispers into her hair. "Not Ella. Not even Perie."  
Jo closes her eyes, leans her head back, and sighs, enjoying the sensation. The earrings drop from her fingers.  
"I suppose, deep down, I'll always be a mother's boy." Breathes Malachi.  
Jo suddenly spins round and passionately kisses him. He responds, the two of them frantically grabbing and clutching each other. Jo breaks away from the kiss, breathing hard. Wordlessly, she places her left hand on the side of Malachi's face, her right hand on his chest, then steers him round so his back is to the sofa, all the time staring deep into his eyes.  
"You're right," she murmurs softly "about me being a mother to you. I've always thought of you as my child. My son."  
She leans in and gently, tenderly, kisses him on the lips. Then she pushes him back onto the sofa. As he sits there, she advances towards him.  
"So yes, this is wicked. And sinful. And taboo. And so very, very wrong." She purrs, climbing onto the sofa, straddling him, then grabbing hold of his t-shirt and pulling it off over his head. She runs her hands over his chest.  
"And now it's time for my boy…my beautiful boy…to show me how much of a man he really is." She declares, then leans forward and bites his chest. Hard.  
Malachi gasps loudly, more in pain than pleasure. Jo raises her head. She's drawn blood, and makes a show of running her tongue over her lips, before kissing Malachi passionately.  
As the two of them continue, the camera pans away from the sofa, across the bedroom and towards the door. There, observing Jo and Malachi's violent foreplay, stands Alex. She's wearing black leggings and a white sleeveless top, and has an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. The tube from the mask leads to a metal oxygen cylinder that's fitted snugly into a wheeled stand that Alex is pulling around by a handle. Alex silently glares at Jo and Malachi, then turns and walks away, pulling the cylinder behind her.

Cut to a non-descript street. Wearing her cheerleader's uniform, Thelma sits on the back of a milk float as it trundles along. She hops off as it passes the entrance to a hospital. As she enters the building, the theme tune to '_The Magic Roundabout_' can suddenly be heard. Thelma pulls a mobile phone out of a holder on her belt and examines it. The screen reads 'Caller unidentified.' She puts the phone to her face. "Hello?" She says as she walks past an arrowed sign that reads 'Morgue.'

At Ella's flat, the floor of the living room is littered with large cardboard boxes as Leon unpacks a load of new computer and phone/satellite surveillance equipment. Having just let herself in, Midge surveys the scene. The door to Ella and Leon's room is slightly ajar. Midge peeks through and sees Ella sitting on the mattress, eyes closed, meditating. Midge quietly closes the door, then asks Leon where all the stuff filling the rest of the flat came from. He explains that it's "a gift from our sponsors."  
"We have sponsors?" Says Midge, incredulously.  
As she helps him get all the equipment unpacked, Leon explains that everytime Malachi gains a new recruit, he also gains enemies: most of his followers give money they can ill-afford to the New Church. Others go further, breaking off contract from family, friends, even walking out on their marriages and children to join the New Church's communes. Concerned about the change that's come over their loved ones, people across the world are discovering that the authorities are unwilling to help. Malachi's followers now number in the dozens of millions over several countries, and will do whatever he says – including voting for whoever he tells them. Therefore, with such a considerable section of the electorate at Malachi's command, governments are unwilling to take action to curb the New Church, and have instructed their police forces and intelligence services accordingly. Instead, in the various countries where the new Church has established itself, politicians of all sides are courting Malachi's favour, in the hope of gaining his endorsement.  
As Leon is talking, Thelma wanders in, wearing medical scrubs. Leon gives her a quizzical look.  
"A nurse in Casualty keeled over last night with a heart attack." Says Thelma by way of explanation, tugging at the upper garment. "Kind of ironic, really." The ghost takes some the boxes that have been emptied and starts flattening them.  
Leon tells Midge that since he set up his website a year earlier and became the public face and voice of those opposed to the New Church, many concerned individuals whose loved ones have joined the New Church have been covertly sending him information, often at great professional or even personal risk to themselves. Thus, Leon explains that he has established a network of contacts across the spectrum of society, including the police, many government departments, the medical profession, academia, the banking and legal systems, and even the intelligence services. Alternatively, some individuals choose to fund Leon's website or supply equipment, hence today's delivery. And over the last several months, other ordinary people increasingly concerned about the influence of the New Church have started to create their own protest groups, and many are liasing with Leon, sharing information.  
All the equipment has been unpacked. Having flattened all the boxes, Thelma sits on the kitchen counter, popping a sheet of bubble wrap. Ella emerges from the other room, and smiles a hello to Thelma and Midge.  
"Speaking of contacts" Thelma says "I've just been approached by someone inside the New Church, who's got access to information at the highest level. They say they're willing to act as an informant."  
Thelma tries to sound casual, but it's clear she knows what she's telling them is potentially verbal dynamite.  
"The highest level would mean Malachi's inner circle. You mean one of his incubus or succubus claim they're willing to betray him?" Ella asks.  
"The person in question wants to remain anonymous, and I promised I wouldn't reveal their identity." Replies Thelma. "They say they're only willing to talk to me, no-one else."  
"It's got to be a trick, surely?" Murmurs Leon. "An attempt to pass false information, or lure us into a trap."  
"I believe they're on the level. I can't tell you why, but I have my reasons." Explains Thelma.  
"You're sure about this, Thelma? There will be risks involved. We don't want you compromised." Cautions Ella.  
Thelma nods. "I'm sure." She says. "Besides, I'm dead. There's not much more they can do to me."  
"Okay." Says Leon. "But we're going to be very cautious about any information received from your source."  
Thelma nods, managing a grin. "Understood." The ghost declares.  
Midge looks around at all the unpacked equipment.  
"Have we actually got enough sockets for all this stuff?" She asks

Cut to Jo's apartment at the New Church's London headquarters. Jo is standing in front of the full length mirror, fully dressed in an all-black outfit with a short black skirt, putting her jade earrings in. Behind her, Malachi stirs awake. He's sprawled naked on the sofa, his modesty covered by the black silk camisole that Jo was wearing earlier, which lies discarded over his lower body. He looks exhausted.  
"It never ceases to amaze me," Malachi mumbles sleepily, "that every time we're together, you always manage to find some new boundary to break. You're the only person I know who's even kinkier than I am." He spots the camisole, and also Jo's panties on the floor. "You've changed your underwear?" He asks.  
"No." Says Jo, running her hands down over her waist and smoothing out the skirt, "I'm not wearing any."  
Malachi examines his chest, gingerly touching the bite mark that Jo made. It's already starting to heal up.  
"I've just realised," he murmurs, puzzled, "I'm invulnerable, but you managed to break my skin. To draw blood."  
Jo turns, walks over to the sofa, and crouches down next to him.  
"You're invulnerable to anything that's intended to cause you harm. But this," she purrs as she runs her long fingernails over the rapidly fading bite mark, "was an act of love."  
She leans in close and gently kisses him, then stands up, suddenly all business again.  
Jo proceeds to tell Malachi that she's contacted the Foreign Office and told them that he's unwell and unable to greet either of the diplomatic parties that have flown in for the negotiations, and that she'd also requested that the New Church's role in bringing the two sides to the table was to be played down, even to the extent of not being mentioned in any press release or Ministerial quote. Jo tells him the Foreign Office didn't say anything, but she'd gotten the expression they were somewhat surprised, considering how Malachi had previously insisted that the New Church's role be emphasised to the public when the talks began. But the Foreign Office hadn't questioned this sudden change, probably because now it would allow the Foreign Secretary to take all the credit.  
"It's a pity really, having to forgo the useful publicity. But you're right. If Ella twigged that we were involved in organising the peace summit, she might work out what we're up to, and try to interfere." Mutters Malachi. "Incidently, where are our hired guns now?"  
"Arriving as we speak." Says Jo.

Cut to Heathrow airport. Footage of planes landing, people milling around. We see a powerfully built black man in stylish casual clothes making his way though Arrivals, carrying just hand luggage. Elsewhere in the airport, a tall stern-looking man in an expensive suit with a small suitcase walks through the main terminal.

Cut to Ella's flat. All the equipment has been installed, is up and running, and is merrily humming away. The section of the room around the desk looks like an incredibly cramped version of the bridge of the Starship Enterpise. Several user manuals the size of phone books are lying open, and Midge is on the sofa with her head buried in one of them. Leon and Ella are sat at the desk. Thelma is nowhere to be seen.  
Indicating one of the screens, Leon tells Ella that his contacts in the financial world keep a permanently watchful eye on any large amounts of money being moved by the New Church. One informant, who works at a bank in the Seychelles, has sent Leon information that substantial sums have recently moved through the bank accounts of several dummy corporations believed to be controled by the New Church. Although it can't be confirmed that the funds originated from the New Church, the paper trail eventually ends with the money being deposited into the Swiss accounts of two professional mercenaries known to specialise in political assassination. Leon explains that other contacts have identified the two men as Kenneth Sanzel, a former sniping instructor with the French Foreign Legion, now wanted by Interpol; and Alan McElroy, an ex-marksman in the U.S. Marines, honourably discharged, who subsequently worked for several New York Mafia families before going freelance. Leon brings up photos of Sanzel and McElroy on screen – they're the two men we saw arriving at Heathrow. Ella comments that two assassins means two targets. But who?

Cut to an ordinary, non-descript street. A black limousine pulls up. McElroy emerges out of a doorway and gets into the back of the vehicle, which is empty except for a large briefcase. He glances towards the driver, a young blonde woman who doesn't acknowledge him, just remains looking straight ahead. She see Malachi's mark on her neck. McElroy opens the case. Inside a rifle sits disassembled, together with twenty rounds of ammunition. He shuts the case and exits the car.

Cut to a coffee shop on a nearby high street. It's mid-morning and the place is starting to get busy. Thelma is sitting on a table in the middle of the room, gazing at the customers and looking glum, ritualing torturing herself again by mixing unnoticed amongst the living and witnessing everything she's missing out on. Two girls sit at Thelma's table and start chatting through her, talking excitedly about boyfriends. Thelma looks back & forth at the two girls, then sits up and sighs. She spots a televsion mounted on the wall behind the counter with the sound turned low. Something on the screen catches her attention. She hops off the table, walks across the coffee shop and clambers over the counter. Stretching up, she turns the sound up on the television, whereupon the staff and several customer jerk their heads round, wondering why the volume has suddenly increased tenfold.  
The television is showing a news programme. Over footage of a group of suited diplomats all smiling and shaking hands, the news reader is saying "Seen here two weeks ago, when the date and venue of today's peace summit was announced, are members of the negotiating team of one of the two feuding Balkan nations who currently sit on the verge of formally declaring war. The negotiators for both nations arrived in the UK late last night, and it is hoped that the peace talks starting today will improve relations between the two countries and help ease the simmering and occasionally violent unrest that threatens to engulf both nations and spill out into the neighbouring region." Thelma stares intently at the screen. As diplomats and UN officials all bustle and pose for the TV cameras in the library footage, at the back of the group a figure discreetly slips away. We see this individual in pixeliated close up: it's Jo. A coffee shop worker walks over and turns the sound down.

Cut to Thelma practically bursting out of the coffee shop, the door swinging wide. She walks quickly down the street, hurriedly dialing her mobile then putting it to her head. "Come on, come on, pick up. Be there." She mutters as she walks briskly along.

Cut to the black limousine, stationary in an open-air car park. The back door opens and Sanzel gets out, carrying a briefcase identical to the one McElroy collected. He shut the car door and walks away as the vehicle moves off.

Cut to Leon and Ella discussing something in the latter's flat, as Thelma barges in. "Malachi's up to something." The ghost blurts out.

The next scene: we're still in the flat, but several minutes have passed. Midge has the sofa, Leon's sitting on the chair by the desk, Thelma's occupying her usual perch on the kitchen counter, and Ella is slowly pacing the room, back and forth.  
"So," says Ella, "due to Malachi's influence as he grows in power, there's currently more armed conflict around the world than at anytime since the end of the Second World War. And it's a self-perpetuating situation, because the more strife and chaos that exists, the more Malachi can feed off of it, making him more powerful still."  
"Check." Confirms Thelma.  
"Now suddenly we find that apparently out of the goodness of their hearts, the New Church has been helping bring two countries on the brink of war to the negotiating table." Ella continues.  
"Not particularly likely, given their track record." Adds Midge.  
"Exactly. And we also discover that through a network of third parties, the New Church has employed two professional hitmen, just as negotiators for both nations are attending peace talks here in London." Murmurs Ella.  
"Conclusions anyone?" Asks Leon.  
Ella doesn't wait for anyone else to answer; "Key foreign diplomats assassinated. All-out war declared between their respective nations, that – if Malachi has anything to do with it - will spark off conflicts with neighbouring countries, resulting in the entire region descending into war, vastly increasing Malachi's power, and bringing the apocalypse one step closer." The Anointed One rattles off.  
Leon looks at Thelma; "Thelma, although we're still very wary of your source, have they provided you with anything?" He queries.  
"Malachi's playing this one very close to his chest." Reports Thelma. "The only thing my informant has overheard is that a succubus was ordered to deliver packages to individuals at two locations. The packages consisted of high velocity rifles and rather unique ammunition."  
"In what way unique?" Asks Leon.  
"Bullets with tips made from a melted-down sword, that slew several angels when wielded during the war in Heaven." Declares the ghost.  
"Yeah, that's pretty unique." Murmurs Leon.  
"Such metal will contain powerful magic." Explains Ella. "It will greatly intensify and maximise the feelings of grief and anger caused by the deaths of anyone killed by those rounds. Malachi isn't taking any chances. He wants war to be a certainty."  
Midge starts rummaging in the cardboard box on top of the pile crammed between the wall and the sofa. She produces a London map and unfolds it out on the floor.  
"Do we know the locations where Malachi's succubus delivered the packages?" Midge asks Thelma, who nods.  
"Okay," Says Midge "we find out from the 'net where these nations' embassies are, 'cause that's where the negotiators will be based, and then where the peace summit is taking place. We see if we can sort out the most likely route each motorcade'll take between the two locations, then factor in any overlooking tall buildings, or vantage points. Basically see if we can predict where the hits are likely to take place."  
"It won't be easy." Comments Leon, crouching down next to Midge and studying the map.  
Thelma hops off the counter, walks past them, sits down at the desk and starts tapping away at one of the computers.  
"The police and the secret service choose their routes with care." Continues Leon. "And they usually make sure any venue has a underground car park that can be sealed off."  
Thelma discovers from the internet that the embassies of both nations are listed buildings, and therefore not permitted to have underground car parks built, due to structural concerns.  
"Even so," says Leon, "the rooftops nearby are sure to be patrolled, as a routine security measure."  
"The power and influence of the New Church spreads far and wide, into every level of society." Counters Ella. "I strongly suspect we'll find there's been a few lapses in security today."  
Studying the map, Midge discovers two tall buildings overlooking the embassies, with a clear view of each embassy's entrances.  
"Any assassination attempts will be easier there, at the point of departure, than during the motorcades," muses Leon, "and the security around the venue for the summit will be too intense."  
"Two buildings, two locations, two assassins." Concludes Ella. "We've have to split up. Leon, Midge, take the car to that building." She jabs a finger at the map. "Thelma, you're with me. We'll have to flag down a cab." The Anointed One looks around the room at all of them. "Malachi is not starting another war. Not today. Not on our watch."

Cut to outside the terraced house containing Ella's flat. Leon and Midge emerge first, clambering into a battered red Vauxhall Corsa (henceforth refered to as the Leonmobile) and setting off. Ella and Thelma run off in the opposite direction.

Cut to a dingy stairwell. Clutching the large briefcase, McElroy reaches the top of the stairs, opens a door and emerges onto a flat rooftop. He looks around, getting his bearings, then walks purposefully to the edge of the building and looks down and across at the embassy opposite.

Cut to Ella running out in front of a black taxi cab, waving her arms and forcing it to stop. She and Thelma both jump in.

Cut to the top of another building. Sanzel crouches down by the parapet at the edge of the roof, next to a slightly-raised flat skylight. He opens the large briefcase and starts to assemble the rifle.

Cut to Leon and Midge speeding through the streets in the Corsa.

Cut to Sanzel. He has assembled the rifle, and turns his attention to the ammunition, pushing the round one-at-a time into the semi-automatic weapon's clip. Finishing, he shoves the clip into place.

Cut to Ella and Thelma looking pensive in the back of the moving cab.

Cut to Malachi's penthouse apartment on the top floor of the New Church's London headquarters. On the far side of the apartment's main living room is an overhang, that juts out twelve feet from the side of the building. A huge window, floor to ceiling, stretches the length of the overhang, and it also has a glass floor, made of toughened safety glass, so when walking or standing in the overhang, you can look straight down at the street, twenty five storeys below your feet. Malachi is standing in the overhang, looking at the view across the city. Jo enters.  
"It should be happening in the next few minutes." She reports.  
"What do you think the chances are of Ella interfering?" Asks Malachi, conversationally.  
"Never say never, where Ella's concerned." Replies Jo. "They made her the Annointed One for a reason."  
Malachi nods, still admiring the cityscape. "They made a good choice, when they picked her." He admits. "That's why I've sent some back-up."

Cut to Leon and Midge running into the lobby of an office building. A burly security guard approaches them.  
"Can I help you?" He asks.  
Leon glances at Midge, looks at the guard, appears as though he's about to say something, then launches himself at the guard instead.  
"Get to the lift!" Leon yells at Midge as he and the guard grapple. "Head for the roof!"  
Midge sprints pass them, runs into a waiting lift and presses the top button. The doors slide shut and – slightly out of breath – Midge gazes silently at the floor numbers lighting up.

Cut to Ella and Thelma arriving on foot at the base of their assigned building. Large faded signs declaring 'Office Space To Let' are on display in all the first floor windows. The two of them enter a lobby that is devoid of life.  
"I remember reading about this place." Says Thelma. "The developer went bankrupt just as construction was being completed. It's remained unsold because there's all kinds of legal arguments between the creditors." As they head towards the lifts, a security guard appears ahead, walking towards them.  
"Morning miss." He says. "What's the -"  
Without breaking her stride, Ella throws a punch hitting the guard square in the face, and keeps walking as he collapses to the floor. They reach the lifts. Thelma pushes the up button, and they look at the number displays. None of them are lighting up.  
"The lifts aren't operational." Declares Ella. "Stairs."

Cut to Midge in the office building, getting out of the lift on the uppermost floor that it travels to, just short of the roof. She looks about. A arrowed sign on the wall reads 'To Roof', so she follows the arrow, goes through a door to her left, and starts climbing a flight of stairs.

Cut to the lobby below, where we see the security guard who was struggling with Leon get thrown backwards against the wall. The guard slowly slides unconscious to the floor. The camera pans across to Leon, out of breath and dishevelled, with a split lip.  
"Sorry." He mutters to the guard, not insincerely, then he runs to the lifts.

Cut to Midge on the stairs, as she reaches a landing, rounds a corner - and immediately stops in her tracks. Just a few feet in front of her, crouching on all fours on the next flight of stairs, is a Nephilim. Regarding her, it snarls. Midge is frozen with fright.

Cut to Ella and Thelma, running up the stairs in the unsold building.  
"One more floor to go!" Yells Thelma.  
They reach a landing, turn to run up another flight, and stop as they see a Nephilim on the next landing. The Nephilim is so hunchbacked that even though it's standing upright, it's nearly bent double, it's claw-like hands hanging just a few inches above the floor. Seeing Ella and Thelma, it roars and starts walking down the stairs toward them, taking deliberate, heavy steps.  
"Head for the roof Thelma." Yells Ella over the creature's roars. "I'll handle this."  
Thelma nods nervously, and runs up the stairs, trying to dodge past the Nephilim. It slashes out at her with one of it's clawed hands, and Thelma instinctly squeals with fear, but as she's a ghost the talons just pass through her. She keeps running and reaches the landing. The creature shrieks with rage, then turns it's attention to Ella, as Thelma continues towards the roof.

Cut to Midge, face to face with the Nephilim. The creature raises itself up on it's upper arms and sniffs the air, smelling her fear. With it's visage only a foot away from hers, it fixes her with an unblinking stare, and very slowly pulls back it's lips to reveal huge, curved fangs…. and then it roars at her. Midge screams.

Cut to the rooftop above. Hearing the scream, McElroy jerks his head round. Instantly realising that his position has been compromised, he gathers up the briefcase, and - clutching the rifle – runs quickly but cautiously toward the door to the stairs.

Cut to the top of the unsold building. Thelma emerges onto the roof, glances round, and sees Sanzel crouched by the parapet next to the skylight, readying his shot. He's placed the briefcase on the roof behind himself, slightly to one side. Crouching slightly, Thelma starts to walk slowly and cautiously towards him, almost on tip-toe, trying not to make any sound that might alert him. Suddenly, almost half-way to him, she stops and straightens up.  
"What am I doing?" She exclaims. "He can't see me or hear me!"  
She marches up behind him, picks up the briefcase, and – grasping the handle with both hands – swings it with all the strength she can muster, cracking him on the side of the head. Sanzel falls sideways onto the skylight, the glass shatters, and he plunges out of sight. Thelma peeks down through the gaping hole. Sanzel is lying on a concrete floor twenty feet below, his head at an unnatural angle to the rest of his body, his eyes open and unseeing.  
"Oops." Says Thelma.

Cut to Ella and the Nephilim in the stairwell. Having knocked the Nephilim face-first onto the landing floor, Ella has thrown herself on the creature, and is clambering onto it's back. Shrieking with rage, it tries to dislodge her and throw her off. Clinging onto the beast's battered and tarnished battle-armour, Ella unreels a garrotte made of thin but strong razor wire from her sleeve, and wraps it twice around the Nephilim's neck. The creature manages to get to it's feet and stand upright, with Ella still hanging off it's back. Yelling, she pulls on the handles at the ends of the garotte with all her strength, and the wire slices clean through the Nephilim's neck, decapitating it. The severed head rolls forward and Ella falls backwards onto the stairs as the creature's head and still-upright body disintegrate in a spurt of flame.

Cut to McElroy venturing cautiously down the stairs, briefcase in one hand and holding the rifle pointing ahead with the other. He rounds a corner and comes across the sight of the Nephilim on the stairs below, it's back to him as it confronts a cowering Midge. McElroy stumbles backwards in shock, the briefcase striking the stairs' handrail. Alerted by the noise, the Nephilim acts on instinct, jerking round, leaping up the stairs with a cat-like pounce, and shredding McElroy open from hip to neck with a single swipe of it's claws. As McElroy collapses, he drops the rifle. It lands on the stairs and slides down towards Midge. As the Nephilim busies itself clawing McElroy a few more times to ensure he's no longer a threat, Midge spots the rifle and lunges for it. The Nephilim spins round as Midge grabs the rifle, and the creature swiftly advances down the stairs on all fours, snarling. As Midge fumbles with the rifle, the Nephilim swipes at her. She stumbles and falls backwards, screaming as the claws slice the air an inch from her face. Behind her, Leon rounds the corner and sees the Nephilim about to pounce on her as Midge finds the trigger, brings the rifle up and fires. BANG. The bullet hits the creature between the eyes at point blank range. Almost immediately, bright light erupts from the bullet hole, then jagged streaks of light race along the length of the Nephilim's body, as though it's veins are aflame. Then the creature explodes in an almost noiseless burst of white light.

Cut to Ella emerging onto the rooftop of the unsold building. She spots Thelma by the skylight.  
"Did you get him Thelma?" She yells as she walks across.  
Thelma jerks a thumb towards the shattered skylight; "Got him!" She reports, "What about Nephilim boy?"  
We never hear Ella's response, as we cut to a long shot of Ella walking up to Thelma, seen through a camera lens.  
We hear a click, indicating that a photo of the two girls is being taken.  
Cut to a close up of the photographer: a young girl in her late teens/early twenties, standing neat to the concrete barrier on the top floor of a tall, multi-storey car park. We pan back slightly, enabling us to see that she has blonde hair and is dressed in a white t-shirt, white knee-length boots, and a denim jacket and tight jeans –both bleached white. She's holding the camera to her face, so we can't get a good look at her. She takes more photos, and we see still images of Ella and Thelma talking on the unsold building's roof.  
Cut to a long shot of the blonde girl turning and walking away from the barrier, holding the camera one-handed by her side. We're too far away to see what she looks like.

Cut to the office building's stairwell. Leon helps Midge to her feet. Both of them are staring at where the Nephilim was crouching just a few seconds earlier.  
"Are you okay?" Asks Leon.  
The question doesn't register with Midge. "Based on what you guys have told me," she eventually murmurs, "I'm guessing that was a Nephilim."  
Leon takes the rifle from her. "Well, I'm guessing that we've just seen what happens when a Nephilim gets shot with a bullet made from metal taken from a sword used to slew angels." He declares.  
They both stand there for several seconds.  
"I need a drink." Says Midge. "You're buying."

Cut to a glass, full of an undoubtedly expensive alcoholic beverage, hitting one of the pieces of modern art hanging on the walls on Malachi's penthouse apartment. The camera pans round to Malachi, who has clearly just violently thrown said glass. To say he looks none too pleased would be very much an understatement. Behind him, Jo turns and leaves the room, having been the bearer of bad news. Roxy emerges from the apartment's bedroom.  
"I overheard." She murmurs. "What were you thinking, Malachi? The amount of bloodshed… the loss of life that would have been caused….you never would have forgiven yourself."  
Malachi ignores her and continues to fume.

Cut to Ella's basement flat. Thelma sits on the kitchen counter and Ella is on the sofa. They look up and smile as an equally smiling Midge and Leon enter, the latter carrying McElroy's briefcase, which he places next to Sanzel's, already on the floor next to the desk. Ella gets up and dabs at Leon's split lip.  
"You're wounded." She murmurs.  
"Just a scratch." He declares. "You'll be glad to know that all those martial arts lessons you've given me finally proved useful."  
"So, no war today then." Says Midge.  
"No." Replies Thelma. She catches Ella's eye, and the two friends gaze at each other in silent understanding. "War tomorrow." Thelma murmurs.

Final scene: Jo is making her regular visit to the asylum. She's seated at a table, a patient sitting on the opposite side. As before, we can't see who the patient is.  
"The Balkan peace talks are reportedly going well." Jo says. "An uneasy calm has descended on the region. And we've lost two Nephilim. Malachi's furious, obviously. But enough about that. I'm gaining a new assistant tomorrow, provided by our associate. And I also have some good news. The doctors are very pleased with your progress. They wanted to monitor you and run a few more tests for at least another week, but I've persuaded them to release you into my care. You'll be leaving this place tomorrow."  
Jo pauses. "I have some work that needs doing." She says. "Work that requires someone with your unique talents. It will probably be very unpleasant, and may well involve having to inflict pain on a great many people. You'll like that, won't you?"  
As Jo talks, the camera slowly pans round, finally letting us see the patient…  
Perie.  
"Yes." She says, in reply to Jo's question. "I would like that very much."


	4. Dark She Was, and Black of Eyes

**Episode #4: Dark She Was, and Black of Eyes.**

Previously on Hex: brief clips from episode #1 – Malachi being introduced on the chat show as the founder of the New Church; Leon being introduced as the creator of a website debunking Malachi and his organisation.  
A clip from episode #6 of the second season – Ella pulling Perie's fairy-form out of her body.  
Clips from episode #3 – Lilith asking Jo "How goes the search?" Jo replying "As expected." Lilith asking "And the other item?"; Ella explaining "the more strife and chaos that exists, the more Malachi can feed off of it"; Lilith telling Jo "One of my people has been assigned/expect my brethren at noon"; Ella decapitating the Nephilim; Jo saying "I've got some work/that requires someone with your unique talents"; the closing shot of Perie.

Ella sits cross-legged on a dirty bare floor in near-complete darkness, the only light source being a single candle, standing in an old-fashioned metal candle-holder on the ground in front of her. It's constantly flickering light casts a red glow on both her face and the simple sackcloth gown she's wearing. She speaks, looking not at the flame but above it, seemingly at something far away;  
"As the End of Days approaches, open unrelenting war will break out, not only amongst those few remaining nations still desperately clinging to peace, but also between every government and it's people. And this will merely be the beginning. Crops will start to fail all over the world. Then livestock and other animals will fall sick and die in their hundreds of millions. Food will go rotten, regardless of whether it's packed, canned or frozen. Milk will turn sour. Fresh water will become salty. Hunger and famine will sweep the globe. Disease will run rampant, as long forgotten plagues re-emerge and spread unchecked. Mankind will turn on itself, in a primeval, insane frenzy for survival. Societies will collapse. Civilizations will fall. Life will be judged so cheap as to be worthless. Parents will murder offspring. Children will slaughter parents. Siblings will throttle the very last breath from each other. Mothers will cut the throats of babes. Millions will die. Then, when the End arrives, earthquakes, storms, hurricanes and fire will erupt across the globe and sweep the Earth clean. Nothing will survive."  
As Ella finishes, a dark shape sits up alongside her, and we hear the click of a battery-operated torch being switched on. Thelma appears, lit up from below as she shines the torch at her own face.  
"You really need to lighten up." She says.  
Ella wakes up. She's lying on her back, on the mattress with Leon. He's still asleep and lying next to her on his side, his face buried in her hair, one arm placed protectively over her. They're both under a plain, dark blue duvet. Ella looks up at Thelma, who's standing in her medical scrubs at the foot of the mattress. Ella goes to speak, but Thelma holds out her hands, palms out, and gets her defence in first;  
"I only just popped in." She says quickly. "You were mumbling in your sleep. I thought you were having a bad dream. I only wanted to help."  
Not too convinced, Ella grumpily glares at her.  
"Honest?" Says Thelma with a nervous smile.  
Ella's too tired to argue: "Well, it was a bad dream, so I suppose I forgive you. IF you make me some coffee." She grumbles.  
"Coming up." Declares Thelma cheerfully, turning and leaving the room.  
Cut to the flat's main living area a few seconds later. Thelma's filling the kettle at the sink in the kitchen area. A small digital clock on the counter reads 02:05. Ella wanders in from the bedroom, wearing just a black t-shirt that preserves her decency by only a few inches.  
"You ought to consider yourself lucky, you know." Chats Thelma as Ella sits on a tall four-legged stool that's the latest addition to the kitchen area, "I could have ravished you, and you couldn't have done a thing about it. I did that to Cassie once. Annoyed the hell out of her."  
She switches the kettle on. There's silence for a couple of seconds. Ella sits on the stool, Thelma spoons coffee into a mug.  
"Do you want to hear something awful?" Thelma murmurs, not looking at Ella. "Sometimes a couple of days go past, and suddenly I realise that I haven't thought about her."  
"Cassie?" Asks Ella.  
Thelma nods: "My first love. Unrequited, but it was still love. That's one thing meeting her taught me - you can't choose who you fall in love with. I always thought it would be a cute Goth chick who was dynamite in the sack. And then I fell for a blonde who was straighter than a ruler." She shrugs.  
Ella speaks, clearly choosing her words carefully;  
"Do you still think about Maya?" She broaches.  
Thelma looks at Ella and grins wistfully. She's becoming tearful, not from sadness, but due to the emotions that reminiscing causes.  
"The love of my life. Well, afterlife anyway." She says, correcting herself. "It was different from Cassie. It was mutual. Maya loved me as much as I loved her. And after she left, I used to think about her everyday."  
Thelma stops, and gazes at the kettle. Whips of steam are gently starting to emerge from the spout. She moves her hand through them, despite the fact she can't feel them.  
"But recently," She murmurs sadly, "recently I've noticed that occasionally a day's gone by and I didn't think of her. It's only happened a couple of times. But I'm worried that I starting to forget her, the same as I am with Cassie."  
Ella gazes at her friend for a few seconds, then leans in. "Thelma," She says softly "I'm been alive for four and a half centuries, and I've buried more lovers than I want to remember. One thing I've learnt is that memories fade because they're supposed to. Nobody's meant to permanently hold on to that much grief. But we are the people we are because of what we've experienced and learnt from those we've loved along the way. By carrying on and living your life, you're not forgetting your loved ones. You're honouring them."  
Thelma looks sheepishly as Ella. The ghost is still tearful, but in a good way.  
"You know, I don't think I'm the right person to be talking about 'living life' to." Thelma grins ruefully.  
Ella giggles.  
"Seriously though, when Cassie died I knew I'd never have such a good friend again." Thelma smiles, sniffing. "But then I got to know you, Ella Dee."  
The kettle's boiling. Thelma wipes her eyes, then pours the water into the waiting mug.  
"You sure you want this?" She cautions Ella. "You won't get to sleep again. And you need your rest after the day you've just had. Foiling assassinations, preventing wars, killing Nephilim."  
Ella shakes her head: "I won't sleep again anyway. Not tonight."  
She takes the mug and sips the coffee. Thelma leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and watches her thoughtfully.  
"You're worried, aren't you?" Thelma comments. "You're not letting on to Leon or Midge, but you can't hide it from me. I know you too well. So c'mon, level with me, Annointed One to ghost."  
Ella smiles slightly, acknowledging Thelma's perceptiveness.  
"We're on the last lap, Thelma. The final straight. And we're playing for the highest stakes possible. If we screw up, the world ends and everybody dies. If I wasn't worried, I wouldn't be the right person for the job."  
"Well, I'm not worried." Declares Thelma reassuringly.  
"Of course not." Ella smiles and says mockingly, a glint in her eye. "You're already dead. You're probably looking forward to the company."  
Thelma grins: "Touche'." She says.

Cut to a large, darkened office in the New Church's London headquarters, with desks and computers lined up in unimaginative formation. A clock on the wall reads a quarter past two. A man in his early forties is bent over a computer, his face illuminated by the screen's glare. He looks nervous, furtive. His clothes are casual, but smart: trousers and a shirt but no tie. The screen reads 'Download complete.' He removes a disc from the drive and hurriedly logs out, then switches the computer off. Putting on his coat, he shoves the disc into one of it's pockets and goes to leave the office. Taking one last look around the room, he closes the door, turns to walk down the lit corridor – and gives a slight start as he comes face-to-face with Alex, standing just a couple of feet away. She's still wearing her oxygen mask and pulling along the accompanying cylinder. The only clothing she has on is a pink short-sleeved nightshirt (it's more like a long t-shirt) that reaches down to her shapely upper thighs. Regarding him coolly and unblinkingly, she makes a show of slowly lifting the mask a inch from her face, allowing her to talk.  
"Working late…" She looks at his name tag, "Graham?"  
Her voice is a raspy, gravel-like whisper. Recovering his composure slightly as Alex replaces the mask, Graham nods: "Yes. Just finishing up a few things. That needed finishing" A pause. "You?" He asks.  
Alex slowly raises a hand and lifts the mask again: "I couldn't sleep." She says simply, somehow making it sound like an important declaration.  
She replaces the mask. Another pause.  
"Well, goodnight then." Says Graham, a little too quickly, then he hurries in the direction of the lifts.  
Alex watches him go. She turns and looks at the door he emerged from. Opening it, she steps into the office, pulling the cylinder behind her, and calmly looks about. We see her eyes glow faintly yellow in the darkness.  
Opening titles.

Jo's bedroom in her apartment at the New Church's London headquarters. Jo enters, wearing a short black skirt and see-through black top, with a black bra visible underneath. She glances at her watch. 11:58. Opening one of the wardrobes, Jo removes five dark coloured outfits on their hangers, and – separating them - lays them out flat on the huge four poster bed (Note: these are the same outfits from the scene in Jo's room in Episode #3). She glances towards the room's large glass windows, and they slide open. She looks again her watch. 11:59. Several seconds pass. 12:00. On cue, a large jet-black raven flies in through the windows and, flapping, perches on the edge of the dressing table. As Jo closes the windows with another glance, the raven sits there, perfectly calm.  
"I've been expecting you." Says Jo to the bird. "Please introduce yourself."  
The raven's shape starts to change: it swells, grows, and it's body is then enveloped in bright light. A mass of black feathers bursts out into the room, from floor to ceiling, before falling and drifting down like snow drops and covering the floor. A naked and slim young woman with neat, short black hair crouches on the dressing table. She looks at Jo with eyes that don't blink and are completely black, then steps down off the table, and with head slightly bowed, walks across the room and kneels in front of the ex-teacher.  
"My name is Corvide." She states in a voice that is surprisingly soft. "I will do whatever you wish, assist you however you require, and pleasure you in anyway you desire. My life and body are yours."  
"Please rise." Says Jo.  
Corvide gracefully gets to her feet, raising her head and looking at Jo as she does so. She closes her eyes for a second, and this appears to be a precise, considered activity, as though she's not used to it. When she reopens them, they are no longer completely black but look human, although a vivid green.  
"You have your mother's eyes." Comments Jo.  
"She sends her regards, mistress." Replies Corvide.  
Jo smiles: "From this moment, you may act and talk in an informal manner. You're been briefed as to the situation here?" Corvide nods and Jo continues: "I believe it would unwise for Malachi and most of his inner circle to be aware of your true nature and status. It would…" She considers the most appropriate word to use. "..complicate matters." She concludes.  
"Understood." Says Corvide with a nod.  
"I've prepared a choice of outfits for you." Says Jo, indicating the clothes on the bed "I'm told that they're all in your size."  
The young woman walks over to the bed, picks up one of the outfits and shakes it once to free it of feathers. "Don't worry," She says, examining the outfit and slipping into informality as requested, "If they don't fit perfectly, I'll just amend myself."  
"Excellent." Declares Jo. "Once you're ready, there's someone we have to meet."

Cut to a wide, leafy, tree-lined road on the outskirts of suburbia. A limousine is parked in the street outside the mental asylum where Perie has been receiving treatment. Cut to a waiting room inside the facility, where Jo and Corvide both sit. Jo explains to Corvide that when Ella extracted and torched Perie's 'fairy self', she didn't actually kill Perie. Instead, she ripped practically all of Perie's magical energy (and part of her mind) out of her human form, leaving Perie extremely weakened, and insane. But she has slowly recovered, and is being released from the asylum into Jo's care. Jo tells Corvide that although she's still not yet back to her full strength, Perie is still a highly capable and extremely resourceful individual, and henceforth she will be employed by Jo to clean up Malachi's various messes. A door opens, and a doctor enters the room, followed by Perie and a nurse. Perie is wearing a brown figure-hugging top with bell sleeves, frilly short black skirt and black leggings. The doctor produces various forms that Jo signs, and gives Jo several small pill bottles containing Perie's medication. Cut to Jo and Perie emerging from the asylum, with Corvide following a couple of steps behind. As they reach the limousine, Jo turns to Perie and takes both of the faerie's hands in hers.  
"Everything is as we discussed." Jo tells her. "The New Church has an extensive property portfolio, and I've allocated a sizable apartment for you, in a fashionable part of town. We'll take you there now, so you can get settled in. And then -"  
Perie finishes the sentence for her: "Then I can get back to doing what I do best." She says in her exotic accent. "It will be good to be working again. I have missed it. So very much."

Cut to the main living area of Ella's basement flat. Ella and Midge are sharing the sofa, Thelma is sat on the kitchen counter, eating nachos straight from the bag, and Leon is sitting on the chair in front of the desk, but with the chair swung round so he's facing the room. Leon tells the others that half an hour earlier an anonymous e-mail was sent to his website. The sender claimed to have details of all the bank accounts of the New Church and it's subsidiaries, including all those secreted away off-shore, and a history of all money movements and transactions. Leon explains that although he's previous been able to piece together some of the New Church's financial dealings, with help from his network of contacts, the information that this mystery individual claims to have could expose all of the New Church's illegal activities. As for the sender's identity, Leon says that he/she claims in their e-mail to be a concerned individual working for the New Church who's discovered worrying information that he/she believes should be brought to the public's attention, and wants to hand it over to Leon in person.  
Ella points out that it all seems too good to be true. How do they know this isn't Malachi attempting to spread misinformation or lay a trap?  
Leon says that the sender has anticipated that he (Leon) might be wary, and so wants to meet him in a public place – the location, date and time to follow in a further message. In addition, as 'a sign of good faith' the e-mail included an attachment: footage apparently taken by a concealed camera hidden within the main conference room of the New Church's London headquarters, which has a large and incredibly detailed map of the world inscripted onto the floor. Leon tells the others he's established that all of the New Church's major centres across the world have an identical room.

Cut to the main conference room in the New Church's London headquarters, where Malachi is waiting, clearly impatient. The room is quite large, and several dozen chairs are stacked against the opposing walls on two sides. Jo enters with Corvide. At the sight of the latter, Malachi immediately perks up and becomes animated. He walks over to meet them, flashing his cocky salesman's smile. "Hello there. It's always nice to see a fresh young face in this place. Jo, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"  
"Malachi, this is Miss Corvide, my new P.A." says Jo. Clearly under the impression that he's being charming, Malachi takes Corvide's hand, then bends and kisses it, at which point Jo adds "and familiar."  
Malachi jerks his face away from Corvide's hand, his mouth twisted in revulsion, as though he'd just licked a lemon or something equally sour.  
"Am I to assume sir, that you're not into bestiality?" Asks Corvide.  
Embarrassed and annoyed, Malachi merely turns towards the map on the floor. Once his back is to Jo and Corvide, he quickly wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, disgust registering on his face.  
"Let's just get this thing over with, shall we?" He blusters.  
"As Alex is still recovering, Miss Corvide will take her role." Jo informs him.  
"Yeah, fine. Whatever." Mutters Malachi.  
As Malachi walks angrily towards the map, Corvide leans towards Jo and speaks softly, so not to be overheard: "Interesting." She murmurs, looking at Malachi's back and tilting her head slightly in curiosity.  
"How so?" Whispers Jo.  
"He's incomplete." Says Corvide, "Part of him is missing."  
"I know." Replies Jo, with an enigmatic smile.  
"Is he aware?" Asks Corvide.  
"No." States Jo. "And that's the way I wish to keep it."

Cut to Ella's flat. Thelma, Midge, Ella and Leon are all clustered around the monitor as Leon runs the footage supplied with the e-mail. The onscreen date of the footage is exactly two weeks earlier, and the footage itself is slightly out-of-focus. They watch as Malachi and two young women walk across the map on the conference room floor, one of the girls talking to Malachi as they do so. The camera is high up, presumably placed on an internal balcony, window-ledge, or suspended walkway, so Malachi and his companions appear small and their voices are faint. Leon boosts the sound as Malachi stands in the centre of the map, while the girls each take up a position at the northern and southern ends. Thelma is the first to recognise the women.  
"That's Alex." She comments, indicating the girl who was talking, "And the other one's Shannon."

Leon, Ella, Thelma and Midge watching the footage of the ritual is intercut with Malachi, Jo and Corvide performing the ritual at their London headquarters in the present, so that Malachi in the footage will start to speak an incantation, and we cut to Malachi in the present finishing it, etc.  
Malachi stands in the centre of the map, Alex/Jo at the northern end, and Shannon/Corvide at the southern end. Malachi speaks an unfamiliar, ancient-sounding language, occasionally glancing down (both in the footage and the present) at his hand.  
"What's he doing?" Asks Midge.  
"He's reading from a cue card." Mutters Thelma in mild disbelief.  
At the end of the ritual, Alex/Jo and Shannon/Corvide both open black velvet bags that they've been holding throughout the ritual, reach in and then throw the contents – what appear to pebbles – into the air in front of them. "Runes." Realises Ella.  
In both the footage and the present, the runes reach the upper-most point of the arc caused by the throw – but instead of falling, remain suspended in the air. Suddenly they separate and fan out, positioning themselves above certain points of the map. Then they all fall in unison, all landing and remaining perfectly still, not a single one bouncing or rolling.  
In the footage, while Malachi and Alex remain in their places, Shannon walks around the map with a notebook and pen, carefully recording the location where each rune has landed, before popping the rune back into her bag. In the present, Corvide does the same. (we don't see anymore of the fortnight-old footage. The rest of the scene is in the present.)  
"Why do we have to keep doing this every week?" Protests Malachi to nobody in particular, tucking the cue card into the front pocket of his quite loud and somewhat tacky shirt.  
"You know why. To locate the Grimlore." States Jo flatly, still standing at the edge of the map, twenty feet away and directly behind him.  
"Haven't we got enough copies of the blasted thing already?" Malachi moans.  
He turns to look at her, and is taken aback to find her standing right next to him, looking him in the eye.  
"Duplicates are of no use. Not for the purpose we have in mind. We need the original." She says.  
Slightly rattled, Malachi tries to regain his composure. "So why don't we just find the original then? Why waste time locating all these copies?" He mutters.  
Jo stares patiently and unblinkingly at him. Clearly this is something she's had to explain to him before, more than once, and Malachi is just too stubborn or ignorant to bother to remember.  
"Only you can perform the ritual. Only you can find it. And you're not powerful enough yet to locate it, despite the number of followers you've collected thus far. At the level of power you're achieved, you can only locate copies at present. But we're getting closer. Our search team in Morocco has reported that the ritual seven days ago pinpointed the location of a third generation copy. Previously, the best we've achieved had been fourth and fifth generation. And the more copies we locate and bring here narrows the search and will prevent too many false readings as your powers increase enough to find the original."  
Still annoyed, and not looking at her, Malachi quickly nods and walks away, impatiently waving a hand in her direction: "Fine, fine." He clearly hasn't fully grasped what she'd said, or simply doesn't want to understand. Jo and Corvide watch him go.  
Standing at the edge of the map, Corvide waits until Malachi has left the room before speaking;  
"Multiple copies? Of the Grimlore?" She asks, casting a quizzical and semi-amused look at Jo.  
"A half-truth." Shrugs Jo. "A few months ago Malachi came across one of our retrieval teams returning with a fifth generation tome, and he got rather excited. I had to tell him something to pacify him."  
"I see." Says Corvide. "He's really not very bright, is he?"  
"Spend some time in Malachi's company," Says Jo dryly, "and you soon realise that if he can't drink it, snort it, inject it or fornicate with it, then it doesn't feature highly on his list of priorities. And that's why I keep him as much out of the loop as possible. The less he knows, the less he can interfere. And the less he interferes, the less he can screw things up."  
"Do you think it's the part missing from him that causes him to be so careless and easily distracted? So disrespectful and wilful?" Suggests Corvide.  
"Perhaps. I've considered it." Jo ponders. "It's entirely possible."  
"And he really doesn't suspect?" Corvide asks.  
"No." Jo turns and faces Corvide. "Not at all."  
As Corvide considers this, there's a knock on the door that Malachi left through a few seconds earlier.  
"Enter." Says Jo, and a young man with Malachi's mark on his neck nervously walks in.  
"I have news for the master." He says, almost apologetically.  
"Malachi's occupied at the moment." Murmurs Jo. "I'll deal with it."  
The incubus pauses for a second: "We've received an e-mail," he begins.

Cut to the bedroom in Malachi's penthouse apartment on the top floor of the New Church's London headquarters. Malachi opens one of the double doors to the room and walks in. The four Malachiettes are sprawled on the vast bed, in various states of undress. As Malachi walks towards the bed, all four girls get up and slink towards him in their bare feet. Malachi stops walking a metre from the foot of the bed and stands motionless as the girls surround him. Without a word being said, they start to caress him, kiss him, and remove his clothes. The door to the room has been left swung open. Roxy appears there, looking in. Without turning round, Malachi senses her presence.  
"Fancy joining in, Roxs?" He says, goading her. "Oh, I was forgetting. You can't. Feel free to hang around and watch though. In fact, I'd prefer it if you did."  
Roxy shows no reaction. As Malachi starts passionately kissing one of the girls, she silently turns and leaves.

Cut to Jo's private office in the New Church's London headquarters. There's a large, heavy-looking desk made of blackened oak, on which a thin computer monitor sits, plus a few modern office chairs, but otherwise the room is practically bare. One gets the impression that Jo doesn't spend much time here. Jo, Corvide, the incubus who entered the conference room, and a young man in his early twenties (wearing an unbuttoned blue shirt, black jeans and white trainers) are clustered behind the desk, facing the monitor. The young man – who does not bear Malachi's mark upon his neck – is sitting on a chair, the others are standing. Jo tells the young man to bring up the e-mail.  
"General e-mail access. Show e-mails received." Says the man, whose name badge identifies him as Adrian Sellars.  
The screen responds, displaying a list of e-mails received that day, from the most recent downwards, and we realise the computer is voice activated/responsive.  
"Highlight e-mail received 16:00." Sellars commands.  
The screen does so.  
"If you could leave us for a moment, Adrian." Murmurs Jo. "Just wait outside. We may need you again shortly."  
Sellars gets up and leaves. As he heads towards the door, Jo turns to the incubus.  
"You may leave as well, and return to your usual duties. Thank you for bringing this to our attention." She tells him.  
Jo waits until both Sellars and the incubus have left and closed the door behind them.  
"Show e-mail." She says.  
The e-mail is displayed on screen. Corvide leans in and reads it aloud. The sender claims to have obtained details of all the bank accounts of the New Church and it's subsidiaries, including all those secreted away off-shore, and a history of all money movements and transactions. The e-mail continues that unless the New Church pays £1 million in cash, in used notes, then the information will be released to the press and the authorities. The exchange is to take place in a public place – the location, date and time will follow in a further e-mail. To prove that the claim is genuine, the e-mail contains an attachment as evidence. Jo and Corvide open the attachment and find themselves watching the footage of Malachi, Alex and Shannon performing the ritual two weeks earlier.  
Jo comments that this is an inside job: once a week the entire headquarters building is swept for bugs, listening devices, hidden cameras and any other concealed surveillance equipment. As the footage was taken two weeks ago, it means that whoever placed the camera also removed it so it wouldn't be discovered by the next sweep. Jo tells Corvide to fetch Sellars. After the young man has re-entered the room, Jo instructs him to pull up a record of all computer activity on the New Church's on-site server, starting at 16:00 and going backwards, and to look for any large unauthorised downloading of files. As Sellars sits at the desk and gets started, Corvide and Jo stand a few feet away. Indicating Sellars, Corvide whispers to her mistress: "He's not an incubus?"  
Jo shakes her head: "We employ normal humans who specialise in those areas for which the incubi and succubae lack the necessary expertise. He's tech support. We also have solicitors and marketers on the pay roll."  
After a few seconds, Sellars reports that he's found something. He tells Jo and Corvide that there was a mass downloading of files between 01:50 and 02:15 that morning. Jo asks Sellars to list the files in question. He brings them up on screen, and Jo reads down the list. The bulk of them contain the New Church's financial and banking history, and are listed as being encrypted. There's also just over a dozen files - Jo comments – that merely contain routine information about building maintenance, advertising campaigns, and articles about the New Church taken from websites that are openly accessible on the internet.  
"If I may," ventures Sellars, "can I assume that whoever carried out this download was after the Church's financial records?"  
"You may assume, Adrian." Says Jo with a slight smile, still studying the screen.  
"Then whoever did this probably did it in a rush, not wanting to be discovered. These other files were probably just scooped up as part of the download in error." Sellars suggests.  
"They downloaded the Bloodline file." Murmurs Jo, so softly she's practically talking to herself.  
Sellars looks at the screen. We see the file listing in close up. The file titled 'Bloodline' is shown as being encrypted. A quizzical look on his face, Sellars goes to speak, but Jo gets in first;  
"A hobby of mine." She explains. " Researching my family tree. I encrypted it because it's personal to me. Who carried out the download?"  
"It's impossible to delete a record of a download on the server's history log," says Sellars, "so they tried to mask it. But I soon saw through that. They're tried to mask their login identity as well, rather more successfully. It'll take a few hours to clean it up and identify them."  
Standing directly behind Sellars (who's still in the chair), Jo stares at the monitor screen. Her eyes dimly glow red. Sellars suddenly gives a start as the monitor erupts with activity, numerous lines of computer programming code suddenly scroll up the screen, moving so fast they can't be read.  
"What -" Sellars starts to ask.  
Jo places a steadying hand on his shoulder.  
"Shh." She hushes him. "Magic."  
The lines start to slow, and eventually halt.  
"There." Breathes Jo.  
Still slightly flustered and un-nerved, Sellars reads aloud the information on screen, which identifies the initiator of the download as Graham Finch, an employee of the New Church who works in tech support. Jo instructs Sellars to bring up Finch's personal details from the Personnel Department's records. He does so, whereupon Jo thanks him and tells him to wait outside. She waits until Sellars has departed the office before speaking;  
"It's a ruse." She says to Corvide. "If this really was a blackmail attempt, why advertise the fact that it's an inside job by sending us the footage of the ritual? Without it, it would have seemed more likely that someone had hacked into our systems externally. Copying the financial records, asking for £1 million – it's all a distraction. They were really after the Bloodline. They only want us to think that they copied that file by accident."  
"So why let us know there's an inside man?" Asks Corvide.  
"Just another part of the distraction." Theorises Jo. "Their plan was that we'd waste time trying to work out who it was. Hopefully we've identified him sooner than they expected."  
Jo tells Corvide to fetch Sellars back in. As Corvide heads towards the door, Jo looks at Graham Finch's home address on the monitor, dials a number into her mobile phone, then holds to the side of head. After a couple of seconds wait, she speaks;  
"Perie? I have something for you."

Final scene: Perie is relaxing in a huge, luxurious, foam-filled bath, in the apartment that Jo has organised for her. She has her eyes closed, is resting her head against the rim of the bath, and is holding a mobile phone to her ear (throughout this scene, the camera gradually pans in closer to Perie).  
"Will it involve me having to hurt anyone?" The faerie asks.  
"Undoubtedly." Comes Jo's voice through the phone.  
"Will I be required to kill someone?" Perie enquires.  
"Most probably." Comes the reply.  
The camera now has Perie in close up. Her face fills the screen. She opens her eyes, looking straight at us.  
"You make me happy." She says.


	5. Faster Faerie! Kill! Kill!

**Episode #5: Faster Faerie! Kill! Kill!**

Previously on Hex: a clip from episode #3 - Thelma saying "Speaking of contacts, I've been approached by someone inside the New Church."  
Brief clips from episode #4 - Graham the late-night worker being confronted by Alex; Corvide transforming from raven to human; Ella, Leon, Thelma and Midge watching the footage of the ritual; Jo and Corvide throwing the runes, which then remain suspended in mid-air; the incubus telling Jo "We've received an e-mail"; Adrian Sellars saying "Can I assume that whoever carried out this download was after the Church's financial records?"; Jo talking into her mobile phone "Perie, I've got something for you"; Perie declaring "back to doing what I do best."

Ella's flat. Ella is sitting at the desk, re-watching the footage that was e-mailed to Leon's website, showing a ritual that took place at the New Church's London headquarters a fortnight earlier. Leon and Midge are standing behind her. Thelma watches from the kitchen counter.  
"I had several reports confirming that Jo was in Vancouver two weeks ago," comments Leon, "overseeing the New Church's North American interests. Otherwise I suspect she would have been taking part in…whatever it is they're doing." He vaguely points at the screen.  
"Can you make out what Malachi's saying?" Asks Midge.  
Ella pauses, then nods: "It been altered slightly. There's various words, phrases and some entire passages that I can't quite place. But essentially it's a ritual to locate the pages of the Grand Grimlore."  
"The what?" Asks Thelma.  
"The Devil's Bible." Says Ella, "The book that Lucifer wrote in his own hand as he stood alongside God during the Creation. It consists of over a dozen scrolls of parchment, and because they were themselves created as the Creation unfolded, it's impossible to destroy or damage them. It's said the scrolls fell to Earth eons ago during the War in Heaven, and after several millennium were eventually unearthed by a group of holy men. The scrolls can only be read and understood if all of them are together. If just one is missing, then the contents of the others becomes meaningless. Realising it was too dangerous to let the scrolls remain together, each member of the group of holy men took one and then travelled alone to one of the furthest corners of the Earth, avoiding all human contact until the day they died, and keeping their scroll hidden in the remotest place they could find."  
"I'm guessing that Malachi getting his hands on these scrolls wouldn't be a good thing." Says Thelma.  
"I should have guessed that would be his plan." Murmurs Ella. "It all makes sense."  
"So, Malachi needs to collect all the scrolls and reassemble the Grand Grimlore to make the End of Days happen?" Asks Leon.  
Ella shakes her head: "No, he can bring that about as soon as he obtains enough power." She explains, "He wants the Grand Grimlore for something more ambitious."  
"More ambitious than destroying the world?" Exclaims Thelma.  
Ella nods sadly: "Lucifer wrote the Grimlore as the Creation occurred. It's basically a how-to guide to creating the universe. So whoever has the Grimlore can also perform the same procedure in reverse."  
Leon grasps what Ella is saying. "So what you mean is -"  
"Yes." Interrupts Ella, "It's the Nephilims' ultimate revenge against God. Destroying the world isn't enough. They want Malachi to uncreate the universe."  
Opening titles.

Cut to a front hallway in a small suburban home. The walls are covered in modestly patterned wallpaper, the only furniture is a hat-stand, a small table on which a white telephone sits, and a chair next to the table. Four suitcases stand against the opposite wall. There's knock at the door. After a few seconds, an elderly grey-haired lady emerges from one of the doors leading into the hallway, a black cat following at her heels. The lady makes her way to the front door and opens it. Perie stands there, a pleasant smile in her face.  
"Hello Mrs. Finch." The faerie says in her exotic accent. "I am a friend of Graham's, from work. I have brought some papers that he needs, that he left behind at the office. May I come in?"  
"Of course, my dear." Smiles Graham's mother, opening the door wide.  
Perie steps in, and bends down to stroke the cat, which is curling itself around her leg and purring. The faerie is wearing an unzipped black leather motorcycle jacket, a dark brown top underneath, and black leggings. Mrs. Finch closes the door.  
"I'm afraid Graham's not in at the moment." She says. " But he shouldn't be long. You can wait for him, if you like."  
Perie casts an eye over the suitcases lined up by the wall.  
"Are you and Graham going on a trip?" She asks the old lady.  
"Oh yes." Declares Mrs. Finch. "Graham's treating me to a surprise holiday. He only told me last night. He's such a good boy. He had it all planned. He's already arranged for a friend to look after Alfie." She indicates the cat, whom Perie is tickling behind the ears.  
"You said Graham would not be gone long ?" Asks Perie.  
"No dear." Replies Mrs. Finch reassuringly. "He's just gone to collect the travellers' cheques."  
"Really?" Murmurs the faerie. "Do you happen to know precisely where from?"

Cut to a close up shot of a pair of elegant, female hands peeling the ring-pull lid off of a can of cat food, then using a fork to empty the contents into a food dish (the dish is placed on a kitchen counter). The camera then follows the dish as the person lifts it off the counter and puts it down on the floor, where the waiting black cat starts tucking in. Now at floor level, the camera pans across, leaving the cat behind and allowing us to see the high-heeled black boots that the person is wearing. As the camera keeps panning, we hear a number being tapped into a mobile phone.  
"I am at the target's home address." We hear Perie say. "He is planning to leave the country."  
The camera, still panning, has come across Mrs. Finch, lying on the floor, her eyes staring lifelessly directly at the lens. The camera halts and stays on Mrs. Finch, and we see the boots again as Perie walks past the old lady's body.  
"No, but I have his current whereabouts." We hear Perie's voice receding. "I am heading there now."

Cut to a corridor in the New Church's London headquarters. Jo is taking a call on her mobile phone, Corvide standing next to her. The camera suddenly cuts to a Point Of View shot, representing what someone is seeing. The camera edges around a corner and we see Jo and Corvide from behind, about twenty feet away.  
"Tell me the location." We hear Jo say into the phone.  
As Jo listens to the reply, Corvide turns her head slightly, glancing in the direction of the camera, and the camera darts back behind the corner, giving us a close up of the wall. We can still hear Jo talking, but can't clearly make out what she's saying. After a few seconds the camera cautiously edges around the corner again. Corvide is looking at Jo, as her mistress finishes the call.  
"We think we know where Finch is." We hear Jo say to Corvide.

Cut to Ella's flat. Leon and Midge are replaying the footage of the ritual. Ella is stood behind them and Thelma is laid out on the sofa, leafing through a copy of 'Maxim.' She holds the magazine aloft and starts turning it one way and then another, studying a photo layout at every angle. The theme tune to 'Rhubarb & Custard' can suddenly be heard. Everyone glances towards Thelma. Without taking her eyes off the magazine, Thelma reaches for the mobile phone she keeps in a clip-on waist holster.  
"Hello?" She says.  
After a couple of seconds Thelma drops the magazine and covers the phone with her freed-up hand.  
"It's my source at the New Church." She announces.

The next shot is in the street outside Ella's flat. A few minutes have clearly passed since the previous scene. Ella and Thelma are exiting the house, Leon and Midge remain in the doorway. Ella has put her leather arse-kicking coat on. Leon throws her the keys to his battered Corsa.  
"We'll check this out." Says Ella. "If it's genuine, and this man Finch really does have all the dirt on the New Church's finances, we've got to get to him before they do. You two stay here and keep trying to transcribe that ritual. We need to know what those altered passages are."  
Leon nods, and Ella and Thelma climb into the Corsa.

Cut to a large shopping centre, complete with escalators, small groups of teenage girls wandering round, the expected high street brand stores, etc. We see Graham Finch walking through. He's dressed casually, and is wearing a dark blue jacket. About thirty feet behind him, two men in dark suits are subtly following, but he hasn't noticed them. Elsewhere in the centre, we see Ella and Thelma enter from the street outside, through automated sliding doors. Both girls look about, then hurriedly walk further into the building.  
"It would be a lot easier if we knew what the hell this guy looks like." Mutters Thelma.  
"We'll just have to wait until the New Church move on him." Replies Ella. "We've got no choice."  
Elsewhere, Finch is still making his way through the centre. Ahead of him, various shoppers are walking to and fro, and the mass of people clears to revel Perie, standing in the middle of the concourse and seemingly gazing at the floor. The faerie raises her head, catches Finch's eye, and grants him her uniquely un-nerving smile. The computer technician goes white and takes a gulp of air – he's never seen Perie before, but he's in no doubt that the New Church have sent her – then he runs into the nearest store. Perie follows. Finch has run into the ceramics and glassware department of a large department store. There are display cabinets – both tall and waist height – everywhere, and two columns of mirrored pillars running the length of the department, each approximately thirty feet apart. Perie pauses and watches Finch running amongst the maze of cabinets, desperately looking for an exit. She is about to go after him when suddenly she sees in the mirror on the nearest pillar the two dark-suited men entering the store behind her, both reaching into their jackets and producing revolvers. Crossing her arms, Perie likewise reaches into her biker jacket then spins round to face the two men, pulling out a pair of large handguns as she does so. Before the men can react, she simultaneously fires a single shot from each gun – and both men collapse with a bullet hole placed neatly in the middle of their foreheads.  
Nearby, Ella and Thelma jerk their heads round upon hearing the shots, then run in their direction.  
Back at the store, Finch has gone to ground. Three sales assistants and a couple of customers are cowering by a sales counter, frightened, and looking fearfully at Perie. One sales-girl, still in her teens, is whimpering and crying. While scanning the store for any sign of Finch, Perie glances towards the group and regards them with disinterest.  
"You may leave." She tells them.  
A sales assistant and one of the customers start to edge nervously towards the exit, but the others are too scared to move. Perie fixes them wth a stare and speaks again, adding a harder tone to her voice;  
"Now." She says.  
It does the trick, and the group all hastily scatter, practically running out of the store. The faerie returns her attention to the task at hand, and starts to quietly make her way through the department, carefully gazing round, guns held at the ready, listening intently for any sound. The smile hasn't left her face since she first spotted Finch on the concourse. Spotting the fleeing customers and sales assistants, Ella and Thelma head into the store that the group are running away from, and abruptly stop as they come across the bodies of the two dark-suited men.  
"Do you think one of them is Finch?" Thelma asks.  
Ella shrugs: "Do they look like computer geeks to you?" She says.  
Hearing their voices, Perie moves back towards the store entrance. As Ella crouches down to quickly search the corpses for any ID, the faerie emerges from behind one of the pillars. Thelma spots her.  
"Oh crap!" Thelma exclaims, her jaw dropping, "The bitch is back!"  
The faerie raises her guns and opens fire. Ella instinctly dives behind a pillar a couple of feet away, while a still surprised Thelma remains standing. Perie's bullets pass straight through Thelma and shatter a glass display cabinet immediately behind her. Thelma gazes down at herself, running her hands over her chest and stomach.  
"I felt that!" She gushes. "Now _that_ was weird."  
Perie looks momentarily puzzled as to how Thelma's still standing, but then she smiles.  
"Dead person." The faerie murmurs in recognition, then she ignores Thelma and fires another shot which strikes the edge of the pillar that Ella's sheltering behind, knocking off a large chunk.  
Still standing in plain view, Thelma glances back and forth between Perie and a crouching Ella;  
"Guns?" Says Thelma, "When did they start using guns? We don't do guns! We use spells, swords, magic daggers, and other..mystical..stuff! What's going on? When did the forces of darkness get modernised?"  
Ignoring Thelma for the moment, Ella spots one the dead mens' revolvers lying next to their bodies.  
"Thelma." She hisses, jerking her head back as another shot dislodges a fragment of the pillar. "Throw me that gun."  
Thelma looks at the revolver and then at Ella;  
"Do you know how to use one of these?" She asks  
Ella glares at her as Perie shoots way another piece of pillar;  
"THELMA," She yells in exasperation, "JUST THROW ME THE GUN!"  
At that moment Finch breaks cover and runs towards a door in the far wall, marked 'Staff Only.' Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, Perie turns her head in time to see him vanish through the door. Thelma reaches down, grabs the revolver, and tosses it clumsily to Ella as Perie looks back towards her. Ella steps out from behind the pillar, catches the revolver one-handed, clicks off the safety catch with her thumb and opens fire in one smooth split-second movement. Perie dodges back behind her pillar and Ella does likewise.  
"Thelma, go after Finch." Whispers Ella.  
Thelma nods and sprints off. She goes running past Perie, who – knowing that she can't stop Thelma - doesn't even try to interfere. Instead, the faerie turns her attention back to Ella.  
"You have good reflexes, Anointed One." Says Perie, raising her voice, her rich accent making each word sound as though it's been dipped in honey; "When did you last handle a gun?"  
"Spain." Ella declares, ejecting the clip to check how many rounds are left, before slamming it back into place: "The Civil War."  
"Really? That is a strange coincidence. I fought in Spain for nine months, in 1937." Comments Perie.  
"Fighting for the fascists, no doubt." Ella mutters loudly.  
"Actually, I was with the communist partisans." Comes Perie's reply.  
"Well, who knows, maybe we fought alongside each other and never knew it." Ella concludes.  
In one smooth movement, Ella rises, turning, and steps out from behind the pillar – as Perie does the same. Facing each other across the store, the two immortals open fire, loosening off round after round, running sideways across the shopfloor as they do so, keeping pace with each other whilst trying to avoid the return fire from their opponent. Behind them, around them and in front of them, glassware, pottery, ceramic figurines and display stands shatter, burst and explode as they are caught in the crossfire. Both women reach the next pillar in their respective columns and duck behind them. Perie uses the opportunity to reload.  
"Your turn." Ella shouts to the faerie, "When was the last time you shot someone, before today?"  
"Laos in 1968." Perie replies. "An employee of the Agency wanted more than he had paid for. He was not prepared to take 'No' as an answer."  
Both immortals emerge from behind their respective pillars and open fire on each other, moving across the shop floor as they do so. After a couple of shots, Ella is out of bullets. She dives behind a sales counter as a shot from Perie shatters the electronic till sitting there. Reaching the far wall of the store, Perie runs through the 'Staff Only' door.  
Ella waits a few seconds, then cautiously rises from behind the counter. The shop floor is littered with debris. Fragments of exploded glassware and ceramics, shards of mirror glass, and shattered display stands.  
"Décor by Perie." Ella muses ruefully, looking round.

Cut to an underground car park beneath the store, filled with vehicles. Thelma wanders along a line of cars, looking and listening for any sign of Finch. Suddenly a gunshot rings out and she runs in it's direction. Thelma rounds a corner in time to see a dark saloon car pull away at speed, with Finch lying spralled out on the concrete. With a screech of tyres, the car disappears up the exit ramp. Thelma walks up the computer technician, who's lying on his back, and looks the blood blossoming over his shirt from a chest wound. Crouching down, she tentatively tries to touch his face, and makes contact.  
"Dead then." She murmurs, then she reluctantly but resignedly starts to go through the man's pockets.  
As Thelma fruitlessly concludes her search, she hears approaching footsteps and looks up to see Perie walking towards her.  
"He's dead." Thelma tells the faerie. "Whatever information he had on him must have been taken by whoever killed him."  
"I hope you don't mind if I check for myself?" Enquiries Perie.  
"Suit yourself." Shrugs Thelma, as the faerie crouches down and searches Finch's pockets.  
After a few seconds Perie finishes, her search no more successful than Thelma's. As she straightens up, she hears something and points one of her handguns in that direction. Ella emerges from around the corner, revolver pointed at Perie.  
"I seem to recall you running out of bullets." Says Perie.  
"I did." Confirms Ella, "But this is the gun belonging to the other man you killed."  
Perie accepts this with a smile and a barely noticeable nod of the head. Stand off. Thelma glances nervously at both women, worried at how this is going to play out. Looking at Ella, the faerie tilts her head slightly.  
"It would appear that today, neither of us has gotten what we wanted." Declares Perie. She raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Truce?" She offers.  
Ella, her face emotionless, considers the suggestion for a couple of seconds, then nods.  
"Truce." She agrees.  
Still slightly wary, both women slowly lower their guns in unison. Ella walks over to join Thelma and Perie by Finch's body.  
"He was already dead when I found him." Explains Thelma, bringing Ella up to speed, "There's nothing on him."  
"It would seem those he was working for, double crossed him." Comments Perie. "He was expecting a substantial payment, but instead…" Instead of finishing the sentence, she nudges Finch's body with the toe of her boot, then looks up at Ella and Thelma;  
"Would I be correct in surmising that you were contacted by someone offering to give you information about the New Church?" She purrs.  
Ella and Thelma say nothing.  
"I am going to assume your silence means yes." The faerie continues. "I will also assume that this information was to handed over in a public place." She pauses. "No doubt we" (she touches her chest) "would have been given the same time and location. Somebody wanted to pit us against each other, presumably in the hope that we would do great harm to one another."  
"Whatever gave them that idea?" Snorts Thelma, pulling a tiny shard of mirror glass out of her hair and flicking it at Perie.  
The faerie ignores the interruption: "There is a third player in this little game of ours." She concludes. "And I confess I find this intriguing. Don't you?"  
"As the Chinese are fond of saying, 'May you live in interesting times.'" Murmurs Ella flatly in reply.  
Perie smiles, then starts to back away.  
"Farewell, Anointed One. Goodbye, dead person. I have no doubt that we will meet again soon." She says.  
"Can't wait." Mutters Thelma, as Perie disappears into the shadows.  
"I hear sirens." Comments Ella. "We'd better get out of here."  
The two of them walk off towards the exit ramp.  
"So tell me," Thelma asks Ella, "where _did_ you learn to handle a gun?"  
"It's just one of those things you pick up after living through several wars." Says Ella modestly. "And once you've learnt, you never forget. It's like riding a bike."  
"Ahh," Smiles Thelma, "_now_ you're talking my language!"

Final scene: the apartment that Jo has arranged for Perie. It's large, with plush modern furnishings, top of the range music system, widescreen plasma television, minimalist kitchen with polished steel and glass appliances, etc. Perie is showing in Corvide and Jo. Corvide has a huge, wide suitcase, but she is easily carrying it one-handed, as though it's weightless.  
"Our high-placed friends in the police tell us several eyewitnesses reported that shots were fired by two young women," Says Jo, "but apparently all the CCTV footage, despite being taken from more than one camera, shows just static whenever one of the alleged women is about to come into view."  
"The video technicians says it's almost as though both women were surrounded by some kind of energy field." Adds Corvide knowingly.  
"Any news regarding the men I killed?" Asks Perie.  
"They're both been identified." Says Jo. "One was an ex-Navy SEAL, the other formerly with Mossad. Such men don't come cheap."  
"So, did we have any idea who this third party is?" Enquires Perie.  
"Considering their interest in the Bloodline, there's only one person it can be." Declares Jo. "But we needn't concern ourselves. We have more important matters to focus on. Speaking of which, I have something for you. Think of this as a housewarming present."  
On cue, Corvide places the suitcase down on it's edge and clicks open it's fastening clasps. One half of the case falls open, revealing Adrian Sellars painfully crammed inside, lying on his back, gagged, with his ankles and wrists bound together and his knees pressed up under his chin. He instinctly closes his eyes against the sudden brightness of the light, then looks about wildly, desperately, his eyes wide and terrified. He's straining against the gag, making whining and pleading noises.  
"Adrian here was also working for our new player." Explains Jo. "Finch's job was to steal the Bloodline file. Adrian was to stall and divert us. And yes, Adrian" she says, bending down, smiling sweetly, and looking him in the eye, "I am referring to you in the past tense for a reason."  
Jo straightens and turns to Perie: "He's yours, to do with whatever you wish. The walls are soundproofed, the walls and furniture all wipe clean."  
"Do you want me to obtain any details regarding his employer?" Enquires Perie.  
Jo shakes her head: "No need. Like I said, there's only one name in the frame. And when you've finished, don't worry about disposing of the body. Just call Corvide. Carrion makes up most of her diet."  
"Just one request," says Corvide, handing Perie a card with her phone number on, "if you remove the eyes, could you try not to damage them too much? They retain more flavour when they're intact."  
The camera cuts to Sellars's Point of View. He watches from a low, tilted angle as Perie shows Jo and Corvide out. Then the faerie returns and crouches down over him, her face filling the screen in close up. She has an enigmatic, peaceful smile. Sellars starts making pitiful noises again. The screen goes black.  
We hear Sellars's muffled scream.


	6. Anointed

**Episode #6: Anointed.**

Previously on Hex: clips from Episode #2 – Leon telling Ella "We'll just try to grab what moments we can." Leon and Ella kissing.  
Clips from Episode #3 – Jo pushing Malachi onto the sofa and then saddling him; Alex spying on them.  
Clips from Episode #4 – Corvide transforming from raven to human; Corvide examining an outfit and declaring "If they don't fit perfectly, I'll just amend myself."  
Clip from Episode #5 – the stand off between Ella and Perie, both pointing guns at each other.  
Clip from Episode #3 – the blonde girl in bleached denim taking photos of Ella and Thelma.

On-screen caption: 1808.  
The interior of a small church. There's a frantic banging on the wooden double doors that serve as the main entrance. A vicar emerges from a small room to the left of the altar and moves hurriedly down the aisle between the pews, towards the doors. He unlocks them, using a large wrought iron key, and cautiously pulls one of the doors open. We see over his shoulder: it's night outside, and there's a heavy storm taking place, with wind and rain lashing about. A teenage girl is leaning on the door. Her clothes are soaked, and she looks exhausted and frightened.  
"Rose?" Say the vicar, recognising her.  
"Reverend, please!" The girl pleads.  
He opens the door wider and helps her in. As she staggers into the church, we see that she's heavily pregnant – almost full term. The vicar stares at her bulge, confused.  
"Rose? I don't – I saw you only a week ago, and –" He stutters.  
The girl urgently clings to his arm.  
"Protect me, Reverend. Please!" She begs. "They want to murder me and my baby!"  
The vicar looks out through the still open door. We see a country lane outside, flanked by several trees. Branches are being battered by the wind and leaves are swirling about. Lightning flashes, and we see two figures slowly approaching along the lane on horseback. They're both wearing cloaks with the hoods raised. The vicar helps Rose lean on the nearest wall, then he hurriedly closes the door and turns the key in the heavy lock.  
"My baby's coming!" The girl wails, clutching her bulge with one hand, as – with the vicar's aid – she manages to walk towards the pew furthest from the altar. "It hurts, Reverend!"  
He helps her sit on the pew, then straightens, clearly still bewildered.  
"Rose, I saw you a week ago, in the village, and you weren't with child then. How –" He asks.  
"A miracle, Reverend." Blurts out the girl, managing a smile despite her pain. "I met a man, a stranger. I laid down with him." She reaches out and grabs the vicar's arm. "I know it was wrong, Reverend, but he told me my child would be special. And it's true!"  
Suddenly she screams, throwing her head back.  
"Be strong, Rose." The vicar says, trying to calm her. "I need to fetch the doctor."  
"No, Reverend! Please don't leave me!" The girl cries, still clutching his arm.  
The camera cuts to the key in the church door lock. As we watch, the key starts to turn, seemingly of it's own accord. We cut back to Rose, as she screams again.  
"My baby's coming now! I want to push!" She wails – then, though all the pain, she spots something behind the vicar. "Reverend!"  
Seeing that her gaze is fixed on something behind his shoulder, the vicar turns. Standing inside the church, in front of the entrance with it's double doors closed behind them, are the two cloaked figures, their hoods still raised, obscuring their faces. No longer on horseback, we can see that one is quite tall, the other petite in comparison.  
Removing Rose's hand from his arm, the vicar steps protectively in front of her, placing himself between her and the two intruders.  
"You're not welcome here." He declares firmly. "This is a house of God!"  
"I don't think He will mind, Reverend." The taller of the two figures remarks in a strong but surprisingly soft voice, then it steps forward, raises both hands to it's hood and pulls it back. The vicar gazes in amazement as the intruder's face is revealed: it's a young woman with light brown hair, only a few years older than Rose. "For it is His will that we do tonight." The cloaked woman concludes.  
With a cry of pain and exertion, Rose desperately pushes herself to her feet and starts to stagger up the aisle, trying to get away, clutching her bulge with one hand and grabbing the top of each pew for support with the other, sobbing and gasping as she goes. The petite hooded figure starts to walk briskly towards the aisle. The vicar moves to block it's path, whereupon the intruder responses with an incredibly swift, calculated series of precise kicks and punches to the man's legs, knees and arms. The vicar's legs give way under him and he falls to his knees, his arms limp at his sides. Facing the hooded figure, he twists his body as best he can, glancing back at Rose and yelling to her;  
"Run Rose! Get away from here!"  
The petite hooded intruder makes a gesture, and a long, elegant knive appears in it's hand. Barely has the Reverend had time to register it's presence, than the figure has thrown it – with all the poise and technique of an expert – at the retreating Rose.  
"No!" Yells the vicar.  
The knive buries itself in Rose's back, neatly placed between her shoulder blades. She gives an agonised cry, then stumbles and falls just a few feet short of the altar. Pushing herself up onto her hands, she manages to slowly, agonisingly, drag herself forward along the floor, sobbing and trembling as she does so. Reaching the altar, she struggles into a sitting position, facing the cloaked figures down the length of the aisle, one shoulder resting against the altar behind her. Both hands clutching her bulge, she glares at the two intruders in a mixture of pain, desperation, and defiance.  
"You're not…hurting…my baby." She declares, gasping between words.  
The tall woman with the light brown hair silently responds by parting her cloak and producing a crossbow from beneath it's folds. Without pause or hesitation, she raises the weapon, aims and fires. The bolt streaks down the length of the aisle as a blur, and strikes Rose in the centre of her bulge, embedded over halfway up it's shaft.  
"Rose!" Yells the vicar, trying to get to his feet.  
The petite hooded figure reaches out, places a firm, restraining hand on his shoulder, and pushes him back onto his knees. By the altar, Rose stares in horror and realisation at the shaft emerging from her stomach, her tear-streaked face contorted in agony. A quiet wail emerges from her, gradually transforming into a fully-lunged scream as she throws her head back and shrieks her torment to the heavens. A rapidly expanding pool of blood starts to flow across the floor in front of the altar, emerging from under Rose's skirt. Calmly and dispassionately, the petite intruder reaches up with their free hand and pulls back their hood, revealing the face underneath. It's Ella.  
"God's will be done." She declares.  
Opening titles.

On-screen caption: The Present.  
The interior of a large church in one of the more expensive and exclusive London suburbs. A wedding ceremony about to start, and the church is packed. We see Leon in a chocolate brown suit and tie with a blue shirt, and Ella in an elaborate – but not overly grand – dark red dress, both standing in the pews, a couple of rows from the back. Thelma is standing at the back of the church, leaning against the stone wall, looking bored and eating nachos straight from the bag. The bridal theme starts, and the bridemaids walk down the aisle, followed by the bride and her father. At the altar, the bride and groom turn and face each other, and we see that the groom is Troy. The bride lifts her veil, revealing herself to be Gemma.

Cut to later in the ceremony. The vicar is asking that if anyone knows of any reason why this man and this woman cannot be joined in holy matrimony, they should speak now, or forever hold their peace. The camera cuts to Leon and Ella. We hear Thelma loudly shout: "Yeah! She's a bitch!" Smiles frozen, Leon and Ella both slowly turn round and look pointedly at Thelma, who silently mouths 'What?' and shrugs.

Cut to the bedroom of Malachi's penthouse apartment, in the London headquarters of the New Church. Malachi is dressed in a black silk suit and shirt, and is standing in front of a full length mirror, adjusting his tie. Behind him , one of the Malachiettes – wearing just a red bra and matching thong – folds and then places a final few items of clothing in a suitcase that's been placed on the huge bed.  
"Thank you, my dear." Declares Malachi, without turning round. "Why don't you join the others in the shower, and amuse yourselves for a while."  
The girl leaves wordlessly, passing Jo as the ex-teacher enters the room, holding a slim folder in one hand. Jo spots the suitcase;  
"You've got them packing your things now?" She comments incredulously.  
"They like pleasing me." Shrugs Malachi smugly, still admiring himself. "Besides, why have a dog and then bark yourself?"  
"Your helicopter will be here in five minutes." Says Jo, all business. "Anything I should know about before you leave? Any overdosed naked teenagers lying dead in the bath?"  
"It was just the one time!" Sighs Malachi in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Will you please let it drop?"  
"Seriously though, anything I need to be aware of, while you're away?" Says Jo.  
Malachi thinks for a moment.  
"The workmen are coming tomorrow to install the lighting sculpture in the overhang." He reports.  
"That ghastly thing that you commissioned, which cost a fortune, weights half-a-ton, and which we had to get the roof strengthened for?" Remarks Jo.  
"That's the one." Grins Malachi.  
"Anything else?" Enquires Jo. "Has Roxanne been bothering you much?"  
"Actually, she's been pretty quiet lately." Muses Malachi. "Maybe it's finally sunk in that I don't want my soul to be saved. She's probably off moping in a corner somewhere."  
The sound of an approaching helicopter can be faintly heard.  
"Now, remember to be on your best behaviour." Cautions Jo. "The Vatican is getting nervous about the influence that the New Church possesses. Your meeting with their envoy is an exercise in smoothing their ruffled feathers and building bridges."  
"I know, Jo. You briefed me about all this yesterday, remember?" Mutters Malachi.  
"I remember. I was just making sure you did." Replies Jo. "I'm aware you had a farewell party with your little harem last night. No doubt a large quantity of mind-altering substances were involved."  
Malachi turns to Jo and flashes what he thinks is a winning smile.  
"You know too well, Mommy dearest. But no worries," He taps his forehead. "everything's in full working order. Speaking of which," he murmurs stepping closer to her, "how about another parent-child bonding session when I get back? I still don't think I've fully recovered from the last one."  
Smiling slyly, Jo walks up to him and cups one side of his face with her free hand.  
"Behave yourself during this trip, and I'll consider it." She says. "Someone will be accompanying you."  
"Who?" He asks.  
Jo opens the folder she's carrying, produces a large photo and hands it to Malachi. It's of a stunningly beautiful girl in her early twenties, with full lips and light brown hair.  
"Jo, you're spoiling me." Malachi grins.  
"Hands off, Malachi. She's strictly out of bounds." Declares Jo, whipping the photo out of his grasp. "Her name's Chloe, and until eight months ago she was one of the most requested and highly paid girls on the books of the most exclusive escort agency in Paris. Then I managed to tempt her away onto our payroll. She's proved very useful in our dealings with politicians and bureaucrats who expect more than just a hefty bribe. So for once in your life, keep your brain out of your pants. She's there purely to keep the envoy entertained."  
"But he's a man of the cloth." Comments Malachi.  
"So? He's still a man." Counters Jo, then she turns and leaves.  
Malachi considers this, then accepts it with a nod.  
The camera cuts to the corridor outside Malachi's penthouse. We see Jo exit from his apartment and walk down the corridor. As she does, her appearance flows and changes, becoming slightly shorter, and she transforms into Corvide. As Corvide continues on her way, Alex – no longer wearing her oxygen mask, and minus the accompanying tank – emerges from behind a corner further back along the corridor, and watches the departing P.A. with cautious interest.

Cut to the reception for Troy and Gemma's wedding, being held at a huge function room at a hotel. The happy couple are greeting all the guests. After a few seconds, it's Leon and Ella's turn.  
"Great to see you, mate." Declares Troy, vigorously shaking Leon's hand.  
"Congratulations." Says Leon, pausing to kiss Gemma on the cheek.  
"We got a bit worried when your invitation was returned in the mail," continues Troy, "until Gemma had the idea of sending an e-mail direct to your website."  
"Sorry about that." Leon apologises. "I had to move out of my old address at short notice. Didn't get a chance to inform anyone. This is Ella."  
"I'm his 'Plus One'." Smiles Ella, shaking hands and exchanging kisses with both bride and groom.  
Standing with her arms crossed behind Ella and Leon, Thelma looks at Troy and Gemma, unimpressed.  
"I don't know why I let you drag me here." She mutters for Ella and Leon's benefit. "I bet they don't even remember me."

Cut to later in the reception. Ella wanders over to the buffet table and stands next to Thelma, who's polishing off the cocktail sausages.  
"I'd forgotten how loaded Gemma's parents are." Thelma comments with her mouth full, waving a sausage on a stick around, indicating the size of the room. Another guest comes and stands on the other side of Ella (the camera angle is such that while we're aware of the guest's presense, we can't see who it is) as Thelma continues: "Her father made it onto The Times' 100 Rich List while she was at Medenham. You'd think they'd have splashed out on a sit-down meal. Not that I'm complaining though."  
She eats the sausage.  
"I think they went with a buffet because the newlyweds wanted to keep things informal." Comments the guest conversationally.  
For a second, Ella and Thelma don't pay much attention – until they both realise that the guest was responding to a remark made by Thelma. They both turn their heads and look at the person who's joined them. It's Jo. She's wearing a white suit jacket with wide black trim, with a matching skirt that ends just above the knee. The outfit is completed with a wide brimmed hat. She's not looking at either Ella or Thelma, but is scanning the contents of the buffet.  
"What are you doing here?" Exclaims Thelma.  
"I was invited. Which is more I suspect than be said for you." Replies Jo, picking a few items and putting them on her plate. "Apparently I made quite an impression on Troy and Gemma when I taught them at Medenham. Gemma in particular was telling me earlier how much I'd inspired her."  
"I wonder if they would still have such a high opinion of you if they knew that you later helped turn the entire student body into incubus and succubi?" Murmurs Ella coolly.  
"That was inevitable, from the moment Malachi arrived there." Jo responds. "The only way it could have been avoided was if a certain someone had gotten their act together and killed him, as they had been ordained to do." The ex-teacher turns and looks Ella in the eye: "Don't blame me for the outcome of your mistakes."  
Jo's remark hits a nerve, and Ella visibly blanches. Thelma tries to regain the moral high ground;  
"So you don't feel any guilt at all about what happened? Those students were placed under your care, and you just stood and watched as Malachi turned them into his slaves. They're not even human anymore." She bristles.  
"I was lucky in one regard." Concedes Jo. "There was one student of whom I was very fond. She was probably my favourite out of all the children I've taught. She had the relative good fortune, I suppose, to die before Malachi enroled at Medenham. So I suppose that in a way, she was spared."  
Thelma is slightly taken aback.  
"You're saying that Cassie was your favourite?" She asks.  
"No, Thelma." Says Jo, turning and looking at her. "You were."  
For once, Thelma is rendered speechless. Jo turns her attention back to the buffet, and Ella interjects;  
"Aren't you taking a risk, talking to us? I don't think Malachi would approve of you consorting with the enemy."  
Jo smiles, as though silently enjoying a private joke.  
"Malachi thinks I'm looking after things at our London headquarters." She purrs. "And that's all he needs to know."  
At that moment, a piercing scream erupts from the other side of the room. Ella and Thelma both immediately dart their heads around and look in it's direction. Jo glances across rather more leisurely.  
"Girls," the ex-teacher murmurs, "I believe they're playing our song."  
A crowd has already started to gather, with those further back trying to crane their heads and look over those in front. Ella starts trying to push her way through, but makes slow progress. She looks at Thelma, her eyes making a silent request. Thelma nods in response, then walks forward, moving _through_ people. A split second after she's walked through someone, we see several of these individuals either give a start, or suddenly shudder.  
"I feel as though someone's just walked over my grave," we hear one mutter to their companion.  
Thelma makes it to the front of the crowd, and sees what's caused the commotion: Troy is lying spralled on the floor, the front of his shirt and suit awash with blood. Someone has slit his throat, and for good measure has then plunged the elegant-handled knive into his chest, all the way upto the hilt. A male guest is kneeing next to Troy, desperately trying to stem the bloodflow and locate a pulse at the same time. Thelma reaches down, and her fingers make contact with Troy's face.  
"Sorry Troy." She murmurs. "I'm not going to pretend I liked you, but you didn't deserve this. Especially not today."  
Thelma looks up just as Ella pushes her way to the front of the crush of onlookers. In answer to Ella's questioning gaze, Thelma glumly shakes her head 'no'. Voices are being raised in panic, asking what happened, and has an ambulance been called? Standing slightly to one side, a shocked bridemaid - who appears to have witnessed what occurred - is trying to cope with several people who have surrounded her and are all quizzing her simultaneously, demanding answers. She manages to blurt out that a girl and three men burst into the room, headed straight for Troy and Gemma, the girl attacked Troy, who collapsed, the men grabbed Gemma and a guest and dragged them away. Upon over-hearing of a guest being abducted, Ella starts looking about, searching for Leon. She can't see him amongst the crush of faces. She pushes her way over to the bridemaid. In the background we hear a male voice appeal for calm, ask if a doctor is present, and request that people step back and make room. Ella reaches the bridesmaid, who's clearly still in shock.  
"You said that a guest was taken? Do you know who it was? What did he look like?" She asks the girl.  
The bridesmaid's eyes are darting about, looking over the tops of everyones' heads and trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone, as though she's expecting the walls to suddenly close in.  
"I don't know." She manages to say. "I think – brown suit. He had a brown suit."  
Realisation sparks in Ella's eyes. "Thank you." She says to the girl, then she turns and looks at Thelma, who can tell with one glance at Ella's expression what has happened. Jo appears at Ella's elbow.  
"Not quite how I imagined the marriage would end." The ex-teacher comments, gazing at where the crowd have backed away slightly, allowing more room around the slain groom.  
Ella responds by turning and grabbing Jo by the throat with one hand.  
"Where have you taken them?" She hisses, glaring at the older woman.  
Thelma glances round, but in all the alarm and confusion, nobody has noticed Ella menacing Jo. Looking totally unconcerned, Jo raises her hand, places it around Ella's restraining forearm, and squeezes slightly. Ella's face creases in pain and surprise and she loses her grip on Jo's neck – the ex-teacher is a lot stronger than she looks. Jo releases Ella's arm, and the Anointed One yanks it away and starts rubbing it with her other hand while looking at Jo with new-found caution. A figure enters the room and walks over to Jo's side, ignoring the commotion surrounding Troy. It's Perie. She stands protectively by Jo, facing Ella and Thelma and granting them her usual impenetrable smile.  
"Not guilty this time, Ella." Declares Jo, still looking completely unflappable. "The New Church has no reason to hurt Leon. Just the opposite in fact. If anything happens to him, fingers would point and questions asked. I'm afraid you'll have to look for his abductor elsewhere."

Ella is driving Leon's battered Vauxhall Corsa, with Thelma in the passenger seat. The car has a top-of-the-range hands-free speaker phone (courtesy of Leon's sponsors) which looks out of place in the vehicle's worn and faded interior.  
"Speak to me, Midge." Says Ella. "What have you got?"  
Cut to Midge, wearing a hands-free headset and sitting at the small bank of display screens in Ella's basement flat.  
"A murder and double kidnapping takes place at the high society wedding of the month? The police wavelengths and the instant news sites are all over it like a rash." Midge reports. "The CCTV covering the street outside the hotel got good footage of the four abductors, and one of our contacts reports that positive IDs have already been made on two of the males and the girl. The boys were local lads in their twenties with long records of ABH, breaking and entering, dealing in stolen goods, some minor drugs stuff, etc. Looks like they were just hired muscle. But when it comes to the girl, it gets seriously weird. She's American, her name is Catherine Cotton, she's nineteen, and her life-story is like something written by Sutter Caine." (throughout the rest of this scene, the camera cuts between Midge talking, and Thelma & Ella listening in the car.)  
"Her family lived in some hick town in the Deep South." Continues Midge. "Her grandparents were extremely religious; real Bible bashing, hellfire-and-brimstone types. Their teenage daughter rebelled, naturally, running wild and eventually running off with the first boy who asked her. She eventually returned home, pregnant at eighteen. For committing what was in their eyes the heinous sin of getting knocked up out of wedlock, her parents apparently beat her and kept her prisoner, locked up in her bedroom until she gave birth to triplets, all girls. Her parents then got a local doctor who was as God-fearing as they were to section their daughter, placing her in a mental institute."  
"Wait a minute." Exclaims Thelma. "You're saying they were able to get their daughter declared insane and locked away just for being a single mum?"  
"It happens, Thelma." Interjects Ella. "Especially in communities that are overly religious, and where the parents have some sway with the local authorities. It was still fairly common in Ireland until the late 1960s."  
"You're heard nothing yet." Remarks Midge. "The grandparents named the babies Amanda, Bethany and Catherine, and were appointed their guardians. But they became obsessed with the idea that because they had been born out of wedlock, and their parents were sinners, this meant the triplets had actually been born evil. They hit upon a delusional – not to mention particularly sick – idea; in order to save the girls' souls, they had to ensure that the children could either see no evil, hear no evil, or speak no evil."  
"I don't like where this is going." Murmurs Thelma quietly.  
"On the girls' first birthday, the grandparents gouged out Amanda's eyes, permanently deafened Bethany by shoving knitting needles into her ears, rupturing her eardrums beyond repair, and ripped out Catherine's tongue." Reports Midge.  
Ella and Thelma digest this information in silence.  
"If I wasn't dead, I think I'd throw up." Thelma eventually remarks.  
"At this point, the authorities finally woke up to the fact that they'd left three infants in the care of a couple of middle-aged fanatical psychopaths." Says Midge. "The girls were placed in an orphanage and the grandparents were arrested, tried and convicted."  
"What happened to their mother?" Asks Thelma.  
"Unfortunately she'd topped herself after six months in the asylum." Replies Midge. "Fast-forward thirteen years. On the night of the girls' fourteenth birthday, the orphanage burns down. Eight staff-members and over forty children are killed, including Amanda and Bethany. The investigators discover it was arson. Catherine writes a full confession, explaining in detail how she'd started the fire. When asked why she'd done it, the only explanation she writes is 'God told me too.' The court-appointed shrink declares that she's mentally unfit to stand trial, and she's sent to the same asylum her mother died in. Two years ago, a person or persons unknown broke into the place and helped her escape. Three guards were killed. And that was the last anyone had ever seen or heard of her until today."  
"We're coming up to the flat, Midge." Says Ella. "We'll be with you soon."

Cut to the street outside Ella's flat. Ella has parked the car, and she and Thelma are getting out of the vehicle. Apart from the two of them, the street is empty.  
"So the $95,000 question is," murmurs Thelma, "why has a mute, traumatised, American teenage arsonist, who's been missing for over two years, suddenly turned up here in the UK, gatecrashed a wedding, killed the groom, and kidnapped Leon and the bride?"  
"I think I might be able to provide you with the answer." Declares a strong, urbane, but somewhat weary-sounding voice.  
Ella and Thelma both turn to look at the speaker: a tall man, probably in his late thirties, with a neatly trimmed moustache and short beard, immaculately dressed in a black pinstripe suit and dark glasses, and carrying a long, black cane. He's apparently just appeared out of nowhere.  
"And you are?" Asks Ella, her body language indicating that she's immediately on guard.  
"A former acquaintance of Mr. Leon Taylor." The man responds. "I am aware of his current plight, and have come with information that may assist you, and him. You may call me Mephistopheles."  
Both Ella and Thelma's eyes widened slightly when the newcomer identified himself. The two girls quickly glance at each other, then Ella decides to retake control of the situation;  
"Okay, talk." She says. "Catherine Cotton. What does she want with Leon and Gemma?"  
"Miss Cotton is merely following orders." Answers Mephistopheles. "The individual whom you should most concern yourselves with, is the one who has placed a message through your door."  
Ella glances at the front door of the house that contains her flat, then cautiously back at Mephistopheles, who remains in the same spot where he first appeared. She walks to the door, unlocks it, and slowly pushes it open. A medium-sized brown envelope lays on the hallway floor. Ella bends down, scoops it up, then steps back out into the street to rejoin Thelma and Mephistopheles. Written on the front of the envelope in elegant handwriting is: 'To Ella Dee, my friend, colleague, and comrade in arms.' As Ella stares at this inscription, all the colour drains out of her face. She looks shellshocked.  
"Ella?" Says Thelma, concerned.  
"I know this handwriting." Murmurs Ella. "But it can't…" She looks up, gazing first at Thelma, then at Mephistopheles. "She's _dead_. She died almost a century ago."

Cut to a close-up of a figure with a black, heavy cloth bag over it's head. An unseen hand suddenly pulls off the bag, revealing Leon, a piece of brown parcel tape covering his month. He blinks in the sudden light, then looks about, trying to get his bearings. He's sitting on a wooden chair, his legs tied to the chair-legs, his arms tied to the arm-rests. The room he finds himself in is extremely large, and clearly in a building that is still in the stages of construction: the walls are exposed breeze blocks, the floors are plain concrete, electrical wiring and light fittings are all exposed. A young woman stands in front of him. She has long blonde hair and is dressed in a white t-shirt, a denim jacket and tight jeans – both bleached white, and white trainers. Leon's eyes widen in alarm as he sees that she's holding a blood-smeared sword by her side. The woman steps forward and rips the tape off of Leon's mouth, causing him to yell. Then she silently resumes her stance in front of him. Leon tries to gauge the situation, and after several seconds, he asks the obvious question;  
"Who are you?" He says.  
"Alas, Catherine is unable to speak." Replies a voice from further back in the room; "So I speak for both of us."  
For the first time, Leon spots another woman, tall and slim, standing in the shadows with her hands on her hips, ten metres away. And she's quite the sight to behold: her sleek, shoulder-length hair has a centre-parting. To the left of the parting, it's dyed bright red, to the right it's bright green. Although Leon can't see it from where he's sitting, at the back of her head her hair has been dyed jet black in a triangle shape, tapering up to the point where the centre-parting ends. She's wearing a bright blue leather jacket, matching skin-tight leather trousers with low-cut hips, and blue high-heeled boots. Under the jacket all she has on is a violet sports-bra (Note: this scene is carefully lit so that while the woman's vivid hair and colourful clothing can be seen, her face remains murked in shadow).  
"Well, whoever you are, you look like an explosion in a paint factory," says Leon towards the speaker, trying to sound a lot braver and more confident than he actually feels, "while your friend" he nods in the direction of the girl with the sword, "looks as though she's been dipped in bleach."  
The blonde displays absolutely no reaction, but the woman in the shadows chuckles and lowers her head slightly.  
"Ah, false bravado. I can see why Ella likes you." She comments. "She always did go for men with more courage than sense. Gutsy, but stupid. Just her type."  
"You know Ella?" Asks Leon.  
"Better than you ever will." Replies the woman. "But forgive me, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself."  
She walks forward into better light, and we get the first good look at her face, which is free of make-up, with one noticeable exception – jet black lipgloss. It's the woman we saw partnering Ella in the pre-title sequence, in 1808.  
"I am Mary Warren." She says. "Anointed One."

Fade to black.  
On-screen caption: To Be Continued.


	7. The Girl Who Wouldn't Die

**Episode #7: The Girl Who Wouldn't Die.**

Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode #6 – Mary Warren pulling back her hood in 1808; Mary firing the crossbow; the crossbow bolt embedded in Rose; Ella pulling back her hood; Troy standing at the altar in the present; Gemma lifting her veil; Thelma reaching the front of the crowd and seeing Troy with his throat slashed and a knive buried in his chest; Catherine Cotton pulling the tape off of Leon's mouth; Jo saying "You've have to look for his abductor elsewhere."; Leon asking "Who are you?"; Midge saying "her name's Catherine Cotton"; Mephistopheles saying "Miss Cotton is merely obeying orders"; Mary with her vivid hair and clothes stepping out of the shadows.

On-screen caption: Three years ago.  
We're on a platform on a London Underground station. The name of the station is identified on the wall as 'Hobbs Lane.' The platform is empty, and a train is just starting to pull away. As it does so, two teenagers – a boy and a girl – run onto the platform. Too late.  
The train disappears into the tunnel. The teens watch it go. The boy turns to the girl. He's wearing a studded leather jacket and jeans, and has several facial piercings. He shrugs.  
"Just have to wait for the next one." He says.  
"My dad's gonna kill me." She mutters. "I'll never make back on time."  
Her companion grins and points theatrically at her.  
"You're the one who insisted on staying for the encore. Told you we'd be late."  
She smiles and shrugs: "Great gig though, wasn't it?"  
A strong wind blows through the station from the tunnels, and the girl shivers. She's just wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt, red and white trainers, and a red skirt that could be mistaken for a belt.  
"You cold?" Asks the boy, and she nods.  
He steps up to her and holds her. She rests her head sideways on his chest.  
"How long before the next train?" She murmurs.  
"Shouldn't be long." He tells her. "And it'll be the last one. If it's been cancelled, we're walking."  
She giggles, steps away from him, and playfully punches him on the chest.  
"Don't say that." She declares in mock-protest. "I –"  
A sharp, high-pitched whine cuts her off. The two teens look down the platform, where the noise came from. The station lights are flickering. A couple of them burst in a small shower of sparks.  
"Rob?" Says the girl, suddenly afraid, reaching back towards him without taking her eyes away from where the noise originated, "What –"  
The sound occurs again, stronger this time, louder. As the girl and Rob watch, a section of the platform wall becomes distorted, and starts to twist in on itself, like a photo that's being exposed to extreme heat. The station lights are flickering with increasing rapidity, and the air is filled with a heavy electrical hum.  
"ROB!" Screams the girl, and the boy grabs her arm and they try to run to the stairs.  
Before they can take two paces, flashes of energy start to spontaneously burst into life in the heavily electrified air all around them. Sparks erupt from the boy's piercings and the metal studs on his jacket, and both he and the girl are knocked to the ground. As Rob clutches his face and howls in pain, the girl pulls her mobile phone out of her purse, yelping as she receives a shock from the purse's metal zip. She gazes at the phone in bewilderment – the display is going haywire, flashing up a display of gibberish that's appearing, changing, then disappearing so rapidly that it's impossible to read. Smoke suddenly issues from the phone, and the girl screams and drops it as it burns her hand. The phone lands on the platform and the terrified teenager watches as the plastic buckles and melts.  
The noise is intensifying. Still lying on the platform, the girl looks across to the distorted section of the wall – as someone steps out of it. The noise instantly stops, the rapidly flickering lights remain to normal, the bolts of energy in the air curl and blow away, fading into nothingness. The only sound that can is heard is Rob's moaning. The girl stares transfixed at the figure on the platform: it's a tall, slim young woman, dressed in clothing from another era: a dark brown ankle length skirt, a long-sleeved matching top that is buttoned up to just under her chin, and flat shoes. Her light brown hair is tied up in a bun at the back. The woman gazes about at her surroundings, notices Rob and the girl, and turns and walks towards them. As she walks, a visual wave of energy – like a wavering bar scrolling up a television screen – travels from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. As the wave of energy moves up the woman, it changes her appearance: the flat-soled shoes become black, high-heeled ankle boots. Her skirt vanishes from the hem upwards, revealing shapely legs now clad in black cobweb-patterned stockings, topped by a purple leather mini-skirt. The conservative buttoned-up top is replaced by a short, midriff-revealing black leather blousom with elbow length sleeves. Fingerless black leather gloves appear on her hands. The pulled-back hair and the bun is transformed into a bob hairstyle with sharp pointed bangs either side of her face. The woman pauses a second as she walks and glances down at her new apparel.  
"Interesting." She murmurs.  
The teenage girl tries to get to her feet, but the electrical shock she received has numbed her legs and made them non-responsive. Instead, she frantically starts to crawl away from the approaching woman. Reaching the girl, the woman simply steps around her and advances on Rob, who's still in too much pain to realise what's happened. Reaching down and clutching the front of the teenager's leather jacket with one hand, the woman yanks Rob to his feet, and keeps hold of him. She's taller than him, and has to look down in order to gaze at his damaged face – his piercings have smouldered and fused into his flesh.  
"Very interesting." She remarks.  
"Wha – what? Help –" Sputters the stricken teenager.  
"Show me." She interupts, releasing her hold on his jacket, spreading out her fingers on both hands, and then clamping her hands on either side of his head.  
As the terrified teenage girl watches, Rob immediately starts jerking and spasming, the woman holding him firmly as his eyes roll back and display only white. She actually lifts him a couple of inches off the floor, so his feet kick and twitch at empty air, barely managing to scuff the ground. Apart from a gurgling noise from deep in his throat, the young man makes no sound. Then it's over, as suddenly as it began: the woman lets go of Rob's head, and the teenager collapses onto the platform and lies still. Tears of blood have trickled out of both his eyes. The woman turns her attention to the girl.  
"No." Pleads the teenager tearfully as the woman crouches over her. " Please. Don't –"  
"I still have gaps." Says the woman, ignoring her. "Seek comfort in the knowledge that tonight you have witnessed a act of devine intervention."  
She starts to place her hands either side of the girl's head. The teenager halfheartedly raises a hand to try to push one of the woman's hands away, but is otherwise too scared to do anything except continue to plead.  
"No. Please. Wait." She whines, and then asks in desperation: "Who are you?"  
"Mary Warren" Replies the woman. "Anointed One."  
Opening titles.

On-screen caption: The Present.  
The interior of Ella's basement flat. Thelma is perched on the kitchen counter and Mephistopheles is standing a few feet in front of her, facing Ella, who's sitting on the arm of the sofa. Midge is in the chair by the desk housing the array of computers, but has swung the chair round so she's also looking at their guest. Ella is still holding the envelope she found in the hallway, staring at the writing on it's front.  
"You're not mistaken." Announces Mephistopheles, addressing Ella. "That envelope and it's contents were written by whom you think they were."  
Ella looks up and fixes him with a determined stare.  
"Mary Warren died almost a century ago." She declares. "I was there. I saw it happen, right in front of me."  
Perplexed, Thelma looks back and forth between Mephistopheles and Ella.  
"Who's Mary Warren?" She asks.  
"Shall you tell them, or shall I?" Enquiries Mephistopheles.  
Ella regards him coolly before answering Thelma's question;  
"Once they have gained enough experience, it's customary for an Anointed One to take an apprentice, someone chosen by the forces of Heaven as being suitable to carry on their work, should the Anointed One fall in battle or tire of the fight. My father, John Dee, was the Anointed One before me, and I was judged worthy to be his apprentice. But usually, individuals capable of becoming an Anointed One are extremely rare, and can be born hundreds of years apart. I served as an Anointed One for two centuries until I was informed that an apprentice had been found for me. A young girl whose ancesters had belonged to the Knights Templer, and been founder members of the Illuminati."  
"Mary Warren." Murmurs Thelma, and Ella nods.

Cut to the room where Leon is bound to a chair. Mary is slowly walking round him, talking as she does, only glancing at him when she wishes to emphase a point. Catherine Cotton is still standing directly in front of Leon, but has moved a few feet back, to make room for Mary's circuit.  
"It was 1785 when I first met Ella." Remarks Mary. "When I was…chosen. Here was this tiny slip of a girl, who looked a few years younger than me, yet to learn that she had been fighting the forces of Hell and protecting mankind for over a century and a half before I'd been born…"  
She pauses, stops walking for a second, places her hands to her chest and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she opens them and looks across at Leon.  
"I has quite a crush on her, in the beginning. I'm sure you know where I'm coming from."

Cut back to Ella's flat (throughout the rest of this sequence, the scene cuts back and forth between Ella and Mary, both talking at their respective locations).  
"She was a good pupil." Ella murmurs. "She learnt fast. Faster than I had, when my father had taught me. She mastered combat skills, became adept with the use of assorted weapons, and could perform elaborate and complex spells as though it was all second nature to her. And, more importantly, we were friends. We trusted each other implicitly."  
Cut back to Mary walking around Leon, talking;  
"I'm not surprised she never told you about me. That's always been Ella's way. Don't dwell on the past, just forge ahead, never look back. Pity though. The stories she could have told you about our adventures together." Without breaking step, she gives him a hearty slap on the back of his shoulder. "It's a good thing I'm here to fill you in. You see, I know where all the bodies are buried. Yessir."  
Cut to Ella in the basement flat;  
"We killed people." She states flatly. "That was our mission. We travelled the world, seeking out female descendents of Rachel McBain and the other members of the Medenham coven, and we killed them. It was like a perverse chase, in a way, between us and Azazeal. Almost a sport. If a girl had reached childbearing age, and he'd gotten to her first and impregnated her, we killed her to prevent the birth. If we found the girl before he did, we killed her to prevent him impregnating her. We took life after life, killing helpless pregnant girls and naïve, innocent virgins. Some of them were barely teenagers. They were practically still children. But Azazael" she spits out his name "liked them young."  
Cut to Mary, pausing in front of Leon and staring him at him directly, a semi-amused smile on her face;  
"Ella and I were God's assassins." She declares simply. "We waded in blood."  
Cut back to Ella;  
"The only consolation we had," she murmurs, "the only excuse, was that this was God's will. Our actions had His sanction. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes it made it worse. We were murdering children. And God approved."  
Ella pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing;  
"Like I said, only a rare kind of person can be an Anointed One. And not just because of the work. Immortality is…hard. Once you visit a place, you can never return for at least a century, so that anyone who might remember you has died, and there's no-one left to realise that you haven't aged. Even if you make a friend whom you can entrust with your secret, or dare to take a lover, you know that they will grow old and die. Eventually, everybody does. But you carry on, alone. Having Mary with me changed everything. Here was someone to join me on my path. To help carry the burden. To share my guilt. Each of us was all the other had. But we coped with the weight of immortality in different ways. I would shut down my emotions. I'd draw a veil over whole decades – entire centuries – of my life, periodically re-inventing myself and never looking back. Never allowing myself to wonder, or analyse, or regret. Mary coped by embracing the work, trying to take pride in what we did. For her, doing the job well became the justification for doing it. On some level, I think she even enjoyed it. I never judged her. How could I? Out of the two of us, she was probably the more honest."  
Cut to Mary, circling around Leon;  
"It wasn't all just chasing Azazeal around, you know." She declares. "You see, wherever he was, his presence would knock the natural balance slightly off kilter, causing weird events to occur. Rainstorms of blood, poltergeist activity, showers of frogs, strange lights in the sky, weeping statues, that sort of thing. So whenever we heard of something un-natural happening, off we went. However, it isn't just God who works in mysterious ways. The world can be a bizarre place, even when Azazeal's not around. We encountered more than our fair share of otherworldliness that had nothing to do with the Nephilim."  
Cut back to Ella in the flat;  
"We used to call them events of 'high strangeness.' And as He is a jealous God, we were instructed to eliminate those responsible, whether human or not. He wanted to maintain His monopoly on miracles." She says.  
Cut back to Mary;  
"There was that night at Blythburgh church when we encountered Black Shuck. And the time when we camped out all night in Highgate cemetery in order to stamp out a vampire infestation. And we mustn't forget the battles that Ella and I had with Springheeled Jack. And of course our little jaunt over to America, when we brought down the Aeronauts. Ah, happy times."  
Cut back to Ella;  
"In 1915 we heard reports of someone using occult means to dispose of high ranking members of the British establishment. We investigated, but Azazeal wasn't to blame. Instead it was an oriential master criminal, who controlled a vast underworld empire from his subterranean headquarters, deep under Limehouse. We found a way into his lair, fought our way through his underlings, only to find he'd escaped into the sewers. We pursued him, Mary taking the lead. But German zeppelins were bombing London that night. A warehouse directly above us received a direct hit. The tunnel collapsed in front of me. The last thing I saw was Mary being buried under a couple of hundred tons of earth and stone. I was found and pulled out of the rubble seven hours later."  
For the first time since she began talking, Ella looks up from the envelope she's holding, and gazes at Mephistopheles: "Mary Warren is dead." She declares.  
"I'm afraid that's not the case." Murmurs Mephistopheles. "Although I'm no longer welcome in Hell, and I've not set foot in Heaven since the war, there are parties in both camps who owe me enough favours to enable me to keep in the loop, regarding what's going on. The truth is that Heaven had doubts about your suitability as an Anointed One long ago. You were deemed a little too… individual. There was potential for rebellion within you. Mary however, was more to their liking. But Heaven was concerned that if she remained with you, it would soften her, blunt her edge. So when an opportunity arose in 1915, they seized their chance. Mary would have been killed in that cave-in, but Heaven suspended her in a moment in time – the split second before the collapse would have crushed her. And she was kept there, while you and the rest of the world continued on. Five years ago, you eventually rejected Heaven's guidance, as it was always believed you would. A period of debate followed – you may be either pleased or annoyed to know that some in Heaven thought you deserved a second chance to return to the fold. But the decision was finally made to release Mary by bringing her forward to the present day."  
Ella looks as though someone's punched her in the stomach. Her entire world has just turned upside down.  
"When did this happen." She manages to ask.  
"Three years ago." Replies Mehistopheles. "Where the sewer once stood is now Hobbs Lane underground station." Thelma catches Midge's eye and nods towards the computers. Midge wordlessly swings her chair round and starts tapping away on the keyboard as Mephistopheles continues: "However, there was an unforseen problem. Although her body was suspended in 1915, her mind had remained active, cut off from all outside stimulation. She'd received no sensory input for almost a century."  
"Wait a minute," Interupts Thelma, "you're saying that her mind was basically stuck in a void, cut off from everything, and she wasn't able to see, hear or touch anything for nearly a hundred years?"  
"Yes," says Mephistopheles, "until Heaven reunited her mind with her body and released her."  
"My God." Breathes Ella, gazing across the room, not actually looking at anything, just managing to come to terms with what she's hearing. "It must have driven her insane."  
"Actually, it's believed she went completely insane, then full circle back to total rationality, several times during her time suspended." Comments Mephistopheles. "Unfortunately, at the time she was released, she was at the bottom of the curve."  
"I've got something." Reports Midge. "News report about Hobbs Lane station, just over three years ago. Teenage boy and girl found. The boy had died of a brain hemmoridge, the girl was in a coma." She taps away for a few seconds. "The most recent report I can find after that states there'd been no change in the girl's condition, and brain damage had been confirmed."  
"Mary had been out of circulation for almost a century," explains Mephistopheles, "she extracted from their minds the information she needed about the modern world."  
Thelma looks at Ella;  
"I didn't know Anointed Ones could do that." She says.  
"We can't." Murmurs Ella.  
"Miss Warren's psychic powers have expanded and considerably grown in strength as the result of almost a century's isolation." Comments Mephistopheles. "While her sanity spent those decades spinning round on a carousel, her subconscious mind had no outside influences to distract it, so it turned inward, and worked constantly on developing it's abilities."  
"So what can she do?" Thelma enquires.  
"Her telekinetic abilities are far stronger than any Anointed One who preceded her." Reports Mephistopheles. "She also now has substantial telepathic powers, and impressive pyrokinetic skills. In addition, she's capable of mentally dominating practically anyone she comes in to contact with."  
"You mean hypnosis?" Asks Thelma.  
"Of a fashion." Replies Mephistopheles. "Suffice to say that if she chooses, she can control people like puppets."  
"You say she rejoined the present three years ago." Queries Ella. "What's she's been doing since then?"  
"As your associate has confirmed," Mephistopheles murmurs, nodding towards Midge, "upon arrival she extracted information from the first people she encountered. Unfortunately, a pair of teenagers weren't the ideal choice, but beggars can't be choosers I suppose. If nothing else, it gave her sound knowledge about music downloads, brand name fashion, reality television celebrities and whatever else the youth of today obsess over. She knew that trying to obtain further information would have left a trail of victims for the authorities to puzzle over, so rather than risk drawing attention to herself, it's believed she then laid low for several months, adjusting to the 21st century. She resurfaced after being contacted by a representative from Heaven, who informed her that an apprentice had been found for her."  
"Catherine Cotton." Realises Ella. "It was Mary who broke her out of the asylum in America."  
Mephistopheles nods.  
"This business about having apprentices is a bit Sith, isn't it?" Comments Thelma.  
"So why did Catherine and her hired muscle gatecrash the wedding and kidnap Leon and the bride?" Asks Midge.  
It's Ella rather than Mephistopheles who answers. For her, all the pieces have fallen into place;  
"Heaven doesn't want me around anymore. I've proven to be disobedient, and therefore surplus to requirements. He is a jealous God, and He particularly doesn't like being ignored, and that's precisely what I've done for the last five years." She smiles sadly, resignedly. "Mary's here to kill me."

Cut to the partly constructed building where Leon's being held. Mary is now standing next to Catherine. A good foot taller than the blonde girl, Mary has placed an elbow on Catherine's shoulder and is casually leaning against her, as both of them regard Leon. Catherine remains poker-faced and emotionless, while Mary has an amused grin. The multi-coloured Anointed One tilts her head towards her apprentice;  
"Why don't you go make the final preparations, hun." She says. "I need some quality time with toyboy here."  
Catherine turns and leaves as Mary advances on Leon. Halting just in front of him, she bends down stiffly at the waist until her face is directly opposite his, only a couple of inches separating them, and remains there, her hands placed on her knees.  
"So tell me, stud," she purrs, "how do you rate Ella in the sack? Considering she's got over four hundred years experience, she must have shown you positions and techniques you couldn't have imagined in your sickest fantasies."  
Leon doesn't answer. Instead he tries to coolly meet her gaze, and doesn't do too badly.  
"Oo, is this you being all 'strong but silent', or are you merely trying out your 'mean and moody' face on me?" Mary smiles. "Lighten up, bucko. I'd just like to know if Ella's picked up any new tricks since I last ripped her knickers off."  
Her words sting him. He tries to hide it, but his eyes widen slightly, and a nerve in his face noticably twitches. Mary giggles and straightens up.  
"Oh, come on!" She exclaims, standing in front of him and placing her hands on her hips. "She's been around for four centuries! Do you honestly think there's anything she's not tried or experienced during all that time?"  
Leon maintains his silent front, but looks uncomfortable and avoids her gaze. Smiling slyly, Mary steps up to him, places her left leg over his right leg, her right leg over his left, and then sits down, her backside resting on his knees. She rests her elbows on his shoulders and wraps her forearms around the back of his neck. As she's taller than him, her ample breasts – straining against the sports bra that contains them – confront Leon at eye level, and he's forced to look up to see her face.  
"You don't believe me." She murmurs, amused. "Think I'm just trying to mess with your head. Well, maybe this will convince you. You know that thing that Ella does with her tongue when she kisses? I seem to recall it goes something like this."  
She suddenly lunges and kisses Leon full on the mouth. He tries to pull his head away, but his eyes widen in realisation, then fear and panic as he realises that he can't – his body isn't obeying. Instead, it's actually responding to Mary's hungry, passionate mauling by kissing her back, against his wishes. A muffled wail of distress emerges from Leon for several seconds, until Mary breaks off the kiss.  
"There." She declares, resting back on his knees. "Didn't that seem familiar?"  
Leon can't look at her. He's upset, scared, borderline tearful. Mary pouts, releases her hold around his neck and reaches out with her right hand to caress the side of his face. He finches slightly at her touch.  
"Aww, don't worry baby." She teases. "I just pulled a few of your strings, that's all. Now, you didn't answer my question." She fixes him with a steely gaze.  
"Yes." Leon eventually mumbles, still distressed: "Yes, that's how Ella kisses."  
Mary immediately brightens;  
"There now, that's wasn't so hard to admit, was it?" She chides, then she leans in close, places her mouth next to Leon's ear, and whispers: "Just so we're clear, Ella prefers men, and so do I. But there were many nights when we held each other tight. Sometimes it was just because we were cold. Sometimes it was because one or both of us needed comfort or support. But sometimes… sometimes… it was because we _wanted_ each other. After a hundred years together, we knew how to pleasure each other like no man _ever_ could."  
Mary stands up, making sure her breasts and exposed midriff rub against Leon's face as she does so. She turns and walks fifteen feet away from Leon across the bare, dusty floor, then stops and turns again to face him, placing her hands on her hips.  
"You've just experienced one of my little tricks." She declares. "Just a simple matter of prodding the central nervous system in the right places, and nudging a few cerebral pathways. Now it's time for my party piece. Ella only ever used telekinesis to occasionally fling the odd inanimate object around. I've found a more subtle, delicate, and precise way of utilising it. For example, I can increase or reduce the amount of blood flowing to parts of the human body. I can create physical stimulation, sensation, and a strong rhymic pressure to specfic muscles and organs." She smiles slyly. "Can you feel it, Leon? Can you feel _me_?"  
Leon gapes at her in sudden surprise, then glances down at his groin in alarm.  
"Something seems to be stirring." Mary comments.  
"What are you do – stop it!" He yells.  
"Hush now, handsome." Purrs Mary. "Just relax and enjoy it. Let's increase the momentum, shall we? Faster!"  
Leon cries out, straining against the ropes that bind him to the chair.  
"Yes that's it." Mary remarks encouragingly. "Why don't we up the tempo even more. Show me what you're made of."  
"Don't!" Begs Leon, his face contorting, his struggles making the chair rock.  
"It's true, you know." Mary says cheerfully, ignoring his pleas and tapping a forefinger against her temple. "The best sex is all in the mind."  
Leon continues to yell, an agonised howl of pain, frustration, shame and despair.

Cut to Ella's basement flat.  
"Time for me to take my leave." Announces Mephistopheles. "I have assisted you all I can."  
He takes off his dark glasses, folds and places them in his suit pocket, then turns to leave. Thelma gapes at him.  
"You've got eyes!" She exclaims.  
"Don't most people?" He remarks.  
"Yeah, I know, but – Leon told us you'd lost them." Thelma blurts out.  
"Ah, well, even Hell can be merciful on occasions. It was decided that I had suffered enough, and I was allowed to grow them back." He explains.  
"Why the dark glasses then?" Queries Midge.  
"It was very bright this morning." Mephistopheles opines. "I'll show myself out."  
He nods a farewell to the three girls and departs. Ella watches him go, then gazes back down at the envelope she's still clutching.  
"Don't you think you ought to open that?" Suggests Thelma.  
"I'm afraid to, Thelma." Ella murmurs. Her voice sounds very quiet and small. "If I do, then it makes all of this real."  
She pauses, then decisively rips the envelope open and pulls a letter out. It's in the same destinctive, elegant handwriting as the envelope.  
"I'm at the location where you last dispatched a Nephilim." Says Ella, reading aloud.  
"That's the unfinished office building where we stopped the assassination." Comments Thelma.  
Ella looks up and meets Thelma's gaze in mutual realisation.  
"She's been watching us for weeks." Ella declares.

Cut to Leon in the chair. His head is slumped forward, his chin almost touching his chest. His body seems limp and the sound of his breathing seems to contain a hint of sobbing. Mary advances towards him. Reaching down and placing her forefinger under his chin, she lifts his head. Leon's face is red and flushed. His hair is damp with sweat, beads of which have collected on his forehead, and tears streak his cheeks. He stares down at the floor, unable to meet her gaze. He looks broken.  
"How was it for you?" Asks Mary.  
When he doesn't answer, she leans forward and very slowly licks his face, running her tongue along the right side of his jaw and then up his right cheek in one continuous movement, lingering and making the act last uncomfortably long.  
Leon grimaces, screws his eyes shut, and tries to turn his head away. But it won't move.

Cut to the exterior of the uncompleted office building where Ella and Thelma encountered the Nephilim. It's night. Ella and Thelma stand outside the building, gazing up at it.  
"What can we expect?" Asks Thelma.  
"I have no idea." Murmurs Ella grimly. "I was closer to Mary than anyone else I've even met. But I doubt there's anything left of the person I knew." She glances across at Thelma. "She has the upper hand."  
They enter the building and walk through the empty lobby.  
"No security guards?" Questions Thelma in a whisper.  
"I think we can assume Mary and her protégé have seen to them." Ella surmises.  
One of the lifts opens, complete with accompanying pinging noise.  
"They weren't working the last time we were here." Recalls Thelma.  
"I believe that's meant for us." Ella remarks.  
"Should we take it? Supposing it's booby-trapped or something? We get in, the cable snaps, we crash to the bottom of the shaft." Thelma opines.  
"No." Ella declares with a shake of her head. "No. I may not know Mary anymore, but I think she wants this to be face-to-face."  
She moves towards the waiting lift. After a second, Thelma follows. Once in the lift, Thelma looks quizzingly at the floor buttons.  
"Top floor?" She asks.  
"That's what I'd choose, if I was Mary." Confirms Ella with a nod. "This occasion would seem to demand a sense of the dramatic."  
Thelma presses the appropriate button, the doors slide shut and the lift rises. For several seconds the two of them merely stand and watch the floor numbers light up.  
"This whole Mary thing is really weird." Thelma suddenly comments, breaking the silence and trying to sound casual. "It's like she's the Callisto to your Xena."  
"It's okay Thelma." Ella declares, not taking her eyes off the illuminated numbers. "I'm nervous too."  
Several more seconds pass in silence. Then Ella speaks again;  
"Did you know that God wanted me to derail the Industrial Revolution?" She remarks, almost conversationally.  
"You're kidding!" Exclaims Thelma, but Ella shakes her head;  
"He wanted me to eliminate various key engineers and architects whose ideas were becoming popular, plus some doctors and scientists whose theories were gaining influence. It was God's intention to keep Mankind ignorant, suspicious and fearful. The Renaissance had slipped past him, and He didn't want to be caught napping again."  
"So what happened?" Thelma asks.  
"Fortunately, just as the Revolution was gaining ground, some of the families descended from two members of the Medenham coven emigrated overseas." Explains Ella. "I spent almost a couple of decades tracking them down, by which time the Revolution was too well established to be reversed. God had to realise that even He couldn't stop progress. Shortly thereafter, Mary was appointed my apprentice. "  
The lift reaches the top floor. The two girls emerge to be immediately greeted by the sight of three bodies, all men in their early twenties, spralled out on the bare concrete floor. Their throats have all been slit. Ella walks around the grouping of bodies, taking in the positions in which they'd fallen, and the direction, angle and size of the blood splatters that have sprayed on the floors and nearby wall.  
"I'm guessing this is the hired muscle." Thelma speculates. "Probably not the payout they were expecting."  
Ella nods in agreement;  
"Whoever did this is very good and very quick." She reports. "The second and third men died before they had time to react the death of the first. Before the first had even started to fall. Not only that, but the killer had the skill and foresight to avoid being hit by any of the blood sprays."  
Thelma is looking across the top floor. Very few dividing walls are standing, and the floor level is separated by temporary partitions of translucent thick plastic sheeting, stretching from floor to ceiling at semi-regular distances. Together, Ella and Thelma start exploring. Rounding one of the partitions, they halt at the sight of a figure tied to a chair, a black cloth bag over it's head. Eight feet directly in front of the figure is a widescreen television with a webcam perched on top. Cables from the television and webcam trail off into the shadows. Thelma and Ella cautiously walk up to the figure, and after quickly glancing around and under the chair for booby traps, Ella pulls the bag off, revealing Leon, who blinks in the light.  
"Leon!" Breathes Ella, and she bends down, embraces his head in both hands and impulsively kisses him.  
To her surprise, he finches slightly. Breaking off the kiss, she notices how much of a state he's in.  
"What's wrong?" She asks, concerned, "What did they do to you?"  
Before he gets the chance to answer, the widescreen television directly behind Ella hums into life.  
"I'd recognise that pert little arse anywhere." Declares a cheery female voice. "Hello Ella."  
Ella stiffens, recognition registering in her face and eyes. She slowly stands up, turns round…. and finds herself confronted by the beaming face of Mary Warren, which is staring out of the television in close up, almost filling the entire screen.  
"It's you." Ella says simply, sadly, as though she still doesn't quite believe it.  
"You were expecting somebody else?" Mary replies.  
Ella doesn't quite know what to say, or how to react. Actually seeing her former partner, still alive, has thrown her.  
"No." She eventually murmurs. "No, of course not. Mary… are you alright?"  
Mary smiles, as though amused. But the smile is un-nervingly humourless.  
"Never better. But what about you?" Mary asks. "You're looking good, Ella. How have you been?"  
"Okay. I've been okay." Ella faulters.  
"That's not what I hear." Comes the reply. "Ella honey, we really need to talk. I could scarcely believe it when I found out how badly you've fumbled the ball in my absence. Allowing the Messiah of the Fallen Angels to be conceived and born? And then you go and shag the horny bastard?" Mary slowly shakes her head. There's an element of pity in the gesture. Pity and contempt. "What _were_ you thinking?" She murmurs.  
As Mary talks, Thelma crouches down, extracts a knive from a scabbard on the side of a distracted Ella's boot, and gets to work on the ropes binding Leon to the chair.  
"It never would have happened if I'd still been watching your back." Continues Mary. "Is it any wonder that Heaven wants to cash you in? He may be a jealous God, but He's also a really harsh employer. So don't expect any gold watch or a 'thank you' for a lifetime's service. There's no farewell party, no goodbye card, and the pension really is non-existant."  
Thelma has freed one of Leon's hands and started work on the ropes on his left leg. Leon is using his liberated hand to free the other. Ella glances back at her lover and her friend, then faces the screen again.  
"Where's Gemma, Mary?" She asks.  
"Ah, the blood splattered bride." Mary murmurs. "You know, originally I was thinking we'd just kill her. Then I thought about selling her to some guys I know who'll ship her out to Eastern Europe, get her hooked on crack, and put her to work in a brothel. But finally I decided to just let her go. Provided she gives me what I want."  
"And that is?" Asks Ella.  
Mary taps the side of her nose with her forefinger.  
"Ella, please. What kind of girl do you think I am? We haven't seen each other for so long, this is practically a first date. You can't expect me to reveal everything. Would you respect me in the morning if I did?" She smiles.  
Leon stands up, free of the chair, and starts rubbing his wrists while taking a couple of tentative steps forward on his cramped legs. Ella turns and looks at him, and again he glances away. He seems withdrawn, sheepish, embarrassed. Ashamed. Ella steps up to him and reaches up, placing her hand on the side of his face. This time he doesn't finch, but he only manages to glance at her for a spilt second before tearing his eyes away and staring at the floor.  
"Leon…?" Murmurs Ella.  
"Ella…I…she…" He manages to mumble, but Mary interrupts;  
"Oh, for heaven's sake. What he's trying to say is that I took advantage of him, Ella." She declares.  
Ella turns her head and stares at Mary's face on the screen as her former partner continues;  
"First I kissed him, tongues and all. Then I molested him. In fact, if you wanted you could argue that it was technically rape. But why quibble over words? Either way, your boy's in need of some clean underwear."  
Ella glares at Mary, her face a mixture of shock, anger and rapidly fading denial.  
"_MARY_." Ella calls out, a slightly strangled edge to her voice, transforming the name into a simple declaration of pain and growing rage.  
"Well, can you blame me?" Says Mary dismissively. "Nearly a hundred years without any action left me with one hell of an itch to scratch. But if it makes you feel any better, when I did the deed I swear I didn't lay a finger on him. You know what they say – the most powerful sexual organ is the brain." Mary concludes, wearing a calm, maddening smile. Then the screen goes dead.  
Her whole body tense, Ella stares at the black screen for several seconds, as though expecting Mary's mocking face to reappear. Then she takes a deep breath, releases it, relaxes her shoulders, and turns to Leon.  
"I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I –"  
She hushes him by stepping up to him and gently kissing him on the lips.  
"You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing." Ella says, reaching up, holding his face in both hands and looking him directly in the eyes. "I love you, Leon Taylor."  
Thelma coughs self-consiously.  
"What do we do now?" She asks.  
"Finding Gemma is our first priority." Declares Ella. "If we bump into Mary or Catherine Cotton in the progress…well, we'll deal with that scenario when we come to it." She looks at Leon. "Do you have any idea where Gemma might be?"  
He shakes his head: "I haven't seen or heard of her since they brought me here." He reports.  
"We'll split up and search the rest of this floor." Decides Ella.  
Leon and Ella head off in one direction, carefully looking around the plastic sheet partitions, while Thelma wanders off towards the opposite end of the level, doing the same. Their search having proved fruitless, Ella and Leon are heading back to where Leon was held captive, when they hear Thelma shout;  
"Guys? I think you need to look at this."  
Running around several partitions, they find Thelma crouched in front of sixteen large oil drums, placed in four rows of four. A black box, about the size of a briefcase and made of toughened, rugged-looking fibreglass, is attached to one of the drums, and through a glass-covered opening on the front of the box a red, bright digital readout can clearly be seen. The readout says 05:00. A mass of curling insulated wires leads away from the black box, trailing to each of the oil drums. A couple of feet from the drums there is a widescreen television topped by a webcam, identical to the one seen earlier.  
"When this goes off and ignites the petrol, it'll create a sudden burst of fire and a rapidly expanding wall of flame." Thelma says over her shoulder as she examines the device attached to the drums. "It's not intended to destroy the building or even cause any serious structural damage. It's just meant to burn anything caught in the initial fireball to a crisp."  
As Ella and Leon approach Thelma, the television switches on, and Mary appears.  
"And the motion sensors tell me you've found one of my little welcoming gifts." She declares, still smiling. "Hope you like the colour."  
"One of?" Queries Ella.  
"I've got identical packages set up on each of the top five floors." Explains Mary. "And instead of petrol, every eighth drum is full of an artificially produced, extremely combustible liquid accelerant, as used by all the best professional arsonists. Some might call that overkill. I wouldn't."  
"Alright Mary, what do you want?" Murmurs Ella.  
"World peace, a harem of gorgeous men to call my own, and the sky coloured pink, but I doubt I'm going to get it." Mary cheerfully snaps back. "Ella, you silly goose. I'm here to kill you, remember? Me. Kill. You. Savvy?"  
Ella glances over at the drums and the accompanying device, then back at the screen.  
"You're going to burn down the building, just to kill me?" She questions.  
"What were you expecting, love?" Grins Mary. "You and me, in an epic confrontation? A fight to the finish? Pistols at dawn? Lightning swords of death? Sorry. That may be your way of doing things, it's not mine. Not anymore. Well, let's wrap this up. I've got things to do."  
The readout in the device starts to count down. 04:59. 04:58.  
"You've got less than five minutes to get clear." Mary remarks. "Oh, and I've just shut down the lifts. Suggest you take the stairs. Or you could try your luck and jump out a window. Ciao."  
The television switches off. Using the knive she took from Ella, Thelma finds a seem in the side of the black box and starts trying to prise it open.  
"Get out of here." Says Thelma, not looking away from what she's doing. "I'll do what I can here."  
"Thelma, even if you knew how to defuse it, there's another four devices below." Ella points out. "Leave it. Come with us."  
"They might be interlinked. Share a common circuit. Stop one, and maybe you stop all of them." Thelma counters. "Yes, I know I'm grasping at straws, but Gemma might still be here somewhere, so I've got to do something – I'm the only one who can. What are you so worried about? I'm already dead, remember? GO!"  
"She's right Ella. C'mon." Says Leon, gently but firmly pulling her arm.  
Ella takes a final look at Thelma as the front of the black box comes away, revealing the device's innards. Then she runs with Leon in the direction of the stairwell. Thelma feverishly studies the mass of wires, circuit boards and batteries that are the guts of the device. Suddenly the television comes back on, and Mary surveys the scene.  
"So, Ella and her beau have scarpered have they?" She remarks. "They must be a couple of floors down by now. You know, since they're almost out of harm's way, why don't we shorten the countdown a little? It'll be our little secret, just between you and me."  
Thelma glances up, just in time to see the display on the clock suddenly change from 03:48 to 00:30. It continues counting down from it's new setting. 00:29. 00:28.  
"That's not fair!" Thelma spits.  
"Nothing in life is." Counters Mary. "You should know that better than anyone, girlfriend."  
"I'm not your friend." Replies Thelma coolly, ignoring Mary's visage on the screen and trying to concentrate on the task at hand.  
"Hey, any friend of Ella's is a friend of mine." Trills Mary.  
"You're not Ella's friend either." Thelma murmurs, tracing the course of a wire.  
Mary giggles.  
"What, you've been hanging around her for five years, and you think you know her?" She queries. "Try holding a struggling, terrified teenage girl down, clamping a hand over her mouth to stop her screams while Ella slits her throat. Do that a couple of dozen times, _then_ we can compare notes. Oops. Time's up."  
Thelma looks at the reading. 00:02. 00:01.  
"Crap." She mutters.  
BOOM. The device explodes in Thelma's face, turning her world into an eyesearingly bright white flash, and immediately igniting both the petrol and the accelerant, causing the large metal drums to burst apart like firecrackers. As the fireball erupts and expands in all directions, the top half of one of the drums rockets straight up on a pillar of flame, hits the exposed concrete ceiling, ricochets downwards, smacks into Thelma and sends her flying backwards.

Cut to the street outside, a couple of seconds earlier. Ella and Leon are emerging from the front of the building when they hear the first explosion like a close clap of thunder. They glance up just in time to see a large cloud of flame burst out of the top floor of the building on all four sides, billowing out into the night sky. A split second later a similar explosion erupts out of the floor immediately below, followed by a series of equally impressive fireballs hungrily flowering into life on the next three floors, one after another, just a blink of an eye separating them. The concussion of the explosions sets off every car alarm in a half-mile radius. Ella and Leon duck back into the lobby as debris starts to rain down. Everything that wasn't fixed down has been blown out of the top five floors – plus some items that were firmly secured, but have been tore free by the blasts. Suddenly, over the car alarms, the sounds of the flames and the echoes of the explosions still bouncing off nearby buildings, Ella and Leon hear something else. A wailing noise. They look out just in time to see Thelma – having been hurtled out of the top floor, before plunging, yelling, all the way down - fall the last few feet and land spreadeagled on the pavement. Although mindful of further debris, Leon and Ella rush out and crouch either side of her. Thelma lays still, eyes open, a dazed look frozen on her face.  
"Thelma?" Ella murmurs. "Are you –"  
"Still dead." Interupts Thelma, sitting up, then getting to her feet, rubbing and shaking dust and ash off her medical strubs and out of her hair as she does so. "I wouldn't recommend that." She comments, gazing up in the direction she's just come from.  
Leon and Ella also straighten up, all three of them looking at the top of the building. The clouds of flame have been replaced by thick, black, billowing smoke.  
"Do you think Gemma was up there?" Asks Thelma grimly.  
"Mary said she'd release her." Murmurs Leon.  
"Yeah, but Mary's madder than a box of frogs." Thelma points out.  
"I don't know." Comments Ella quietly. "Just like I don't know why Mary didn't detonate the bomb when we were standing next to it. If she was intent on killing me, why give us any time to get clear at all? I just don't know."  
"Hey," exclaims Thelma "how did you get down here so fast? There's no way you could have made down all those stairs in the time you did."  
"I know." Replies Ella. "So we didn't try the stairs. Instead we forced open the lift doors, I took my coat off, Leon grabbed hold of me and we leapt together into the shaft. I managed to throw my coat around the lift cable and hold it tight, then we slid down the cable. As we got close to the bottom, I tightened the coat around the cable and was able to slow us down to a safe speed. Simple when you know how."  
Thelma notices that Ella's leather coat is sporting burns, serious tears and is actually smoking in places.  
"Don't worry." Says Ella, noticing her gaze. "There are powerful magicks in this garment. By the time we get home, it'll be as good as new."  
"Actually, can we stop off at the morgue on the way home?" Asks Thelma, looking down at her scrubs, which – despite her earlier efforts – are covered in a scattering of fine ash and dust. "I really need a change of clothes."  
The three of them move off as the sounds of multiple sirens gets closer.  
"Thelma," comments Ella as they walk, "how come you seemed to know so much about the destructive power of that device?"  
"Oh, too many nights spent randomly trawling the internet." Thelma replies. "You come across the weirdest things while searching for some decent girl-on-girl. One of the advantages of never having to sleep, I suppose. Anyway," she remarks "what I want to know is how Mary knew about your bottom being so pert. I mean, I know it is because I've looked."

Cut to Jo's bedroom, in her quarters in the New Church's London headquarters. Wearing only a black bra and matching thong, Jo is lying on a thick, black Persian rug on the floor, stretching and flexing her limbs with a contented smile and blissful expression on her face. On the four poster bed nearby, a muscular, handsome man in his early twenties is lying unconscious and spreadeagled, his wrists and ankles bound with tightly stretched leather cords, the other ends of which are tied to each of the four bedposts. Corvide enters, wearing a black business suit with short skirt, and glances towards the young man on the bed.  
"Isn't that –" She begins.  
"Aaron Michaels," Confirms Jo, sitting up. "Former teen boy band heart-throb, before leaving the group and finding solo success. Branched out into acting two years ago, and became a Hollywood sensation overnight. He's got three gold discs, two of his films were amongst the ten biggest box office successes of last year, and he's constantly in the top five of womens' magazine polls to find the world's most lusted after male. He joined the Californian branch of the New Church eighteen months ago. He visits us everytime he's in the UK."  
"I thought he was dating that It girl turned singer?" Queries Corvide.  
"Yes, Samantha James." Comments Jo. "But they split up a month ago when she wouldn't consider converting to the New Church. For someone so young, he's gained quite a reputation as a womaniser. His tally includes four supermodels, two girl group members, plus a dozen or so rumoured dalliances with lap dancers."  
"And now you." Remarks Corvide dryly.  
Jo smiles smugly.  
"I thought I'd see if he lived up to his reputation." She says simply. "He didn't do too badly, though I was a bit too much for him. If I hadn't eased off, his heart would have given out."  
Stepping up to the bed, Corvide reaches down with her left hand and runs her long black fingernails over the man's chest. He shudders slightly, but doesn't waken.  
"Are you finished with him?" She enquires.  
"He's all yours." Replies Jo. "Just be mindful that he has an appearance on daytime television tomorrow. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"  
"I have news." Murmurs Corvide, still looking down at Michaels as she weaves invisible and elaborate swirling patterns on his chest with her nails, taking care not to scratch him. "Our search team in the Kyrgyzstan mountains have sent a communiqué. They have located the final scroll." She turns and looks at Jo, as the ex-teacher gets to her feet. "Once they bring it here, the Grimlore will be complete. We expect their arrival within forty eight hours."  
"Excellent." Jo beams. "And the search for the other item?"  
"It's been confirmed that within the last three days, we have obtained two first-generation copies. We are closer than ever before." Says Corvide, taking her suit jacket off and simply dropping it on the floor.  
"Very good." Murmurs Jo. "Everything's on schedule."  
Still facing the ex-teacher, Corvide continues to undress.  
"Would you like to stay and watch?" She asks.

Final scene: Ella and Leon's bedroom in semi-darkness. Leon is lying on his back on the mattress, only his head, shoulders and arms visible above the duvet, his eyes closed and a look of contentment in his face. Something – _someone_ - stirs under the duvet, approximately where Leon's groin would be, and we realise he's not alone. The shape moves, as whoever's under the duvet starts to travel over Leon's stomach and chest. Taking hold of the edge of the duvet, Leon lifts it up and looks undermeath.  
"Stopping so soon?" He says, smiling.  
An equally smiling face, topped by a mass of bright red and green hair, emerges from under the duvet;  
"We're only just getting started, lover." Declares Mary.  
Leon wakes up screaming, sitting bolt upright. Eyes wide, breathing heavily, he looks around at the walls of the bedroom and the clothes hanging there. Having been woken by Leon's yell, Ella groggily starts to sit up next to him. Still half-asleep, she props herself up with one arm, rubbing one of her eyes with her free hand, then running her fingers through her bed-hair.  
"What's the matter?" She half-yawns.  
"Sorry." Says Leon, wide awake and managing to calm down. "Bad dream. Didn't mean to wake you."  
"'s alright." Mumbles Ella, yawning again, "It's been quite a day."  
Leon manages a grin at this piece of understatement.  
"That it has." He declares.  
He looks across at Ella, who smiles sleepily at him. She looks adorable, bed hair and all.  
"I love you." Says Leon simply, then he leans across and they kiss, both closing their eyes as they do so.  
The kiss ends and their faces move apart. Leon opens his eyes... and Mary looks back at him, her black lipgloss smeared over the side of her mouth.  
"What would Ella say?" She declares.  
Leon wakes with a startled yelp, lying on his back on the mattress. A hand touches his shoulder and he jerks his head to see who it is. Ella is lying next to him, resting on her side, tired but also awake.  
"Are you okay?" She asks.  
He pauses, then nods and smiles, hoping that in the semi-darkness it looks convincing.  
"Yeah." He says, trying to sound reassuring. "Yeah, I'm fine."  
Ella smiles and moves closer to him. He raises his arm and she slips underneath it, resting her head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around her. She places her arm across his chest, hugging him in return. Ella closes her eyes. She's faced one of her demons today and survived. The future may be more uncertain than ever, but right now, lying in the arms of her man, regardless of what tomorrow may bring, she feels content, warm, and safe.  
In contrast, Leon stares fixedly at the ceiling. He won't sleep tonight.


	8. There's Something About Mary

**Episode #8: There's Something About Mary...**

Previously on Hex: brief clips from the Second Series, Episode #8 - Maya being hit by the car; Thelma finding Maya cowering in the morgue.  
Brief clips from the Second Series, Episode #11 - Ella decapitating Maya's dug-up corpse; Thelma reacting and crying out as Maya vanishes in a blaze of light.  
A brief clip rom Episode #6 - Mary slepping out of the shadows and declaring "I am Mary Warren. Anointed One."  
Brief clips from Episode #7 – Mary saying to Leon "Show me what you're made of."; Ella cradling Leon's head in her hands and saying "What did they do to you?"; Mary on the television screen, saying "I took advantage of him, Ella."; the top floor of the tower block exploding; Thelma saying "Do you think Gemma was up there?"; Ella saying "I don't know."

On screen caption: 1948 (this scene is in black and white, to signify that it's in the past).  
Douglas, a legal clerk in his early twenties working at a small but respected and long-established firm of London solicitors, is called into the office of one of the senior partners. The partner asks him how long he's been working for them, and Douglas tells him two years. The partner explains that he and the other partners have been watching Douglas closely, and have been impressed by his dedication and the quality of his work. They have decided to entrust him with a special task, and are confident that he will do everything that is required of him.  
"There's someone I'd like to meet." Says the partner. "She's waiting in the next room. We've acted for her family ever since this firm was established, several generations ago, and they remain our most valued clients. So be on your best behaviour, there's a good chap."  
The partner gets up from behind his large oak desk and goes to a side door. A few seconds later he ushers in a teenage girl dressed in a grey and very formal looking boarding school uniform typical of the period (girl's blazer, jumper, long skirt, hat with upturned brim, etc).  
"This is the young man we were discussing, my dear." The partner explains to the girl. "Douglas, allow me to introduce Miss Ella Reeves."  
Yep – it's our Ella. Douglas stands up and – slightly nervously – holds out his hand. "Please to meet you, Miss Reeves." He says. With an ellegmatic smile, Ella coolly shakes his hand, slowly gazing up and down, appraising him. Keeping her eyes on Douglas, she turns her head slightly towards the partner.  
"He'll do." She says.

Cut to a graveyard in the present (colour). It's semi-twilight, just a few minutes after dawn. Thelma makes her way through the graves, occasionally pausing to pick individual flowers from bunches that have been left. She's wearing skin-tight, dark red hipster trousers, a matching midriff-bearing sleeveless top, and white trainers. Eventually she stops in front of her destination: a grave and headstone that reads MAYA ROBERTSON. She stands silently for several seconds, then steps forwards, crouches down and places her collection of flowers in front of the gravestone.  
"Hello you." She says with a sad smile, still crouching. "Sorry I haven't been for a while, and sorry that I can't stay long." She pauses, the smile fading. "I miss you."  
The silence of the graveyard is suddenly broken by the sound of slow handclapping. Thelma jerks her head, alarmed, and looks about for the source.  
"Very touching." Sneers a voice.  
Thelma spots Malachi, sitting on a bench ten metres away. She'd not noticed previously, but now it's clear he was there the whole time.  
"I knew you'd be here Thelma," Malachi continues "seeing how today's the fifth anniversary of when we killed her."  
"We're not having this conversation, Malachi." Thelma announces, turning her back to him and gazing again at the headstone.  
She leans forward and kisses the lettering of Maya's first name.  
"See you soon." She whispers, then she straightens and starts to walk off, still blanking Malachi.  
He calmly watches her go, waiting until she's about twenty metres away, before yelling after her;  
"She's isn't in Heaven, Thelma."  
Thelma stops in her tracks. Leisurely getting off the bench, Malachi strolls over to her.  
"Maya was my creature when she died the second time, remember?" He asserts, cockily. "She was one of my succubus when your best friend Ella took her head off. And that damned her. She didn't go to Heaven, Thelma. She plunged screaming down into the Other Place. You know what it's called. C'mon, say it with me."  
Thelma says nothing. No emotion registers on her face, but her eyes stare unblinkingly at him.  
"Hell, Thelma. I sent her to Hell." Malachi declares, smiling. "And only I can get her out."  
"What do you want, Malachi?" Asks Thelma flatly, still meeting his gaze but knowing she has no room to manoeuvre – he's holding all the aces, they both know it, and there's no point her pretending otherwise.  
"The same deal my father made with you, six years ago." Malachi replies. "The Stone of Belial. I want it. Ella has it. Obtain it for me, and I'll not only free Maya and allow her to ascend to Heaven, but I'll even let you to have a little time with her, before she goes upstairs. I'll be back at her grave in exactly twenty four hours, and I'll expect to see you with the Stone. But if you aren't here to give it to me, then your Irish bitch girlfriend will burn in agony for all eternity."  
Opening titles.

Cut to the cramped bedroom in Ella's basement flat. The camera is looking directly down at a man and a woman making love on the mattress, partly covered by the duvet. The man is on top, and due to the camera angle, we can only see the back of his head and are unable to tell who his partner is underneath, although we can see her hands digging into his back. Their cries reach a crescendo, and the camera angle changes to directly alongside the mattress, as after several seconds the man rolls off his partner and lays on his back alongside her. It's Leon, who looks exhausted, but has a very contented smile on his face. As he lays there, he's blocking our view of his lover.  
"That was…" murmurs Leon, "I mean it, that was better than anything I've ever…" His words tail off, and he laughs.  
On the other side of him, Leon's partner raises herself, propped up on one elbow, allowing us to see her for the first time. With her other hand, she brushes her distinctive red and green hair out of her face.  
"So, when are you going to tell Ella about us?" Mary asks.  
Leon wakes up. He glances across to the other side of the mattress, which is empty, except for a folded piece of paper lying on Ella's pillow. It has 'Leon' written on it. He reaches over, picks it up, unfolds and reads it. We hear Ella in voice-over: "Leon. Didn't want to wake you. Have received message from an old friend, requesting urgent assistance. Have gone to Hobb's End. Should be back in a few days. Will explain all then. Love Ella."

Cut to Ella, having travelled alone by train, arriving at the tiny station of the small country town of Hobb's End. She looks about, clearly refamiliarising herself. She's been here before.

Cut to a flashback (black and white). We see Ella in her school uniform stepping off a steam train at the same station in 1948, with Douglas in tow. Standing on the short platform, as Douglas sorts out their suitcases, Ella asks him if he's sure he understands the senior partners' instructions.  
"Yes." Says Douglas, "I'm to act as your guardian & chaperone, deal with any financial matters, accommodation arrangements, and to provide you with any further assistance you may require. If I may ask a question?"  
"Of course." Murmurs Ella, setting off at a quick pace through the station, glazing about, taking in their surroundings and not looking at Douglas at all.  
"Why are we here?" Says Douglas, struggling to keep up while carrying all their luggage.  
Still looking ahead, Ella smiles: "Let's find out."

Cut to the present (colour). We're at a charity function in Edinburgh, being held in a large conference room in a swanky hotel. Jo is there, representing the New Church. She is greeted by one of the event organisers, and they make various smalltalk, during which we learn that the event is being held to launch a new charitable trust, formed from two failing charities that have merged in an attempt to survive. Jo then bumps into David Tyrell. The two of them are surprised to see each other, and start catching up. Jo tries to act friendly but relatively cool towards him, but can't quite hide the fact that on some level she's pleased to see him. She tells him that she heard he was cleared of all charges of financial misconduct, and apologies for not getting in touch. David informs her that he's now head of a charitable foundation, and is here to network with charities working in the same or related areas.  
"Everywhere you look, charities like the one I work for are falling like dominoes." He comments. "Donations from the public are drying up. I don't understand it. Nobody seems to care about anything but themselves anymore."  
"You still care." Jo comments, and David smiles bashfully.

Cut to a street of modest, sem-detached houses in Hobb's End. Ella calls at one of the houses, where the door is answered by a middle aged woman. Ella introduces herself and explains she's there to see Douglas. The woman seems slightly perplexed, but shows Ella in, and takes her to the living room, where an elderly and frail Douglas is watching television. Ella and Douglas greet each other each other warmly, and he introduces Ella to the woman, his daughter Alice. Douglas switches off the TV and tells Ella he's got some whisky he's been saving for a special occasion. Alice says she can get it, but Douglas insists on doing it himself, and although slightly slow in his feet, he leaves the room. Slightly apologetically, Alice tells Ella that she doesn't mean to pry, but how does Ella know her father? Ella tells Alice that when Douglas was a solicitor, he represented her grandparents and extended family for many years, and became a trusted and much valued friend of the family. Continuing with her well-practised lie, Ella explains to Alice that her grandparents still exchange letters, birthday cards and Christmas cards with Douglas, keeping him informed of family weddings, births, etc, and she had promised her grandparents that he would visit Douglas while she was in the area. Douglas re-enters the room with a tray on which a bottle and three glasses are placed. Alice pours small measures, and the three of them slip the whisky together.

Cut to Leon, sitting on a park bench in front of a large duck pond. He's staring into space, clearly beset by troubles, hands jammed into the pockets of his coat.  
"May I ask what's troubling you?" Enquires an urbane voice.  
Leon looks up to see Mephistopheles standing a couple of feet away, looking as refined as ever in a neatly pressed and spotless business suit. Without waiting for a response, Mephistopheles sits down next to the young man, and follows his gaze across the duck pond.  
"The girls told me what you did, warning them about Mary Warren." Murmurs Leon. "Thank you for that."  
"The least I could do." Says Mephistopheles with a brush of his hand. "You have a good soul, Mr. Taylor. In the circles I move in, one rarely encounters such a thing. Have the police spoken to you about the events at the wedding?"  
Leon nods: "They're still searching for Gemma, and trying to identify 'the mystery guest' at the wedding who was abducted with her. They're going through the guest list, taking statements from everyone. As I'm trying to stay off the New Church's radar, I haven't informed anyone of where I've been staying since I left my old flat - my contacts get in touch with me via the website. So I thought I'd best speak to the police first, before they started to question why one of the guests is no longer at the only address on file. Me and Ella went down to the local police station and gave statements yesterday. Ella told a half-truth: yes, she'd been at the reception, no, she hadn't seen the abduction, no, she couldn't recall any guest matching the description of the man reportedly kidnapped with Gemma. I lied through my teeth: told them I'd left the reception early, before the incident took place."  
"Very wise." Comment Mephistopheles. "But let's leave the formalities and small talk aside. I think there's something you want to ask me."  
It's a statement, not a question. Leon pauses for several seconds before replying.  
"You know what Mary Warren did to me?" He asks, and Mephistopheles nods. "Well, ever since then, I keep having dreams about her…and me. Really vivid dreams. It's happening everytime I go to sleep. It's affecting Ella and me. I've not been able to…be with her since I was abducted. I can't even bring myself to touch her, in case I suddenly start thinking of Mary. I mean, what's happening to me? Is it because of what Mary did to me? Am I traumatised somehow?"  
"Yes…and no." Mephistopheles muses. "Mary did more than just abuse you. She mentally conditioned you, by placing a trigger in your mind. Now, everytime you have amorous thoughts, or consider becoming imitate with Miss Dee, it immediately initiates vivid noctural fantasies involving Miss Warren."  
"So everytime I think about sex, I automatically think about Mary? And this materialises itself in my dreams?" Exclaims Leon.  
"Afraid so, dear boy." Murmurs Mephistopheles. "A particularly twisted punishment to inflict upon you, but you have to admit it's quite inventive. No doubt a result of Miss Warren having almost a hundred years in which to think up all kinds of cruelties. Clearly she's seeking to hurt Miss Dee through you. Speaking of your beloved, has she noticed your reluctance regarding physical relations?"  
Leon shakes his head.  
"Nothing's been said, but she clearly thinks I just need some time and space after what happened. But it's getting worse." Mutters Leon in exasperation. "It's not just happening when I'm dreaming, or even asleep. I'm starting to see Mary every time I close my eyes. Sometimes I even start thinking I've caught a glimpse of her when I'm wide awake."  
"Hmm. That sounds more serious." Remarks Mephistopheles. "Mary may have planted the seed, but it appears your subconscious mind has allowed it to take root and grow beyond it's original parameters. This is no longer the trigger activating….it's you."  
"You're saying I'm starting to think about her not because I'm programmed to, but because I want to?" Sputters Leon.  
"It does make sense, I suppose." Mephistopheles theories. "In many ways, Miss Dee and Miss Warren are very alike. Perhaps even identical. Opposite sides of the same coin, you might say. As you are in love with one of them, it's logical that the other would also appeal to you."  
"You really think it's possible for me to be attracted to Mary? After what she did to me?" Leon mutters.  
"The abuse that she inflicted upon you aside, I would say yes." Ponders Mephistopheles. "I think on a purely subconscious, sexual, carnal, reproductive level, you find Miss Warren desirable. Nothing to be ashamed of. I've not had the pleasure of meeting her, but by all accounts she's quite pleasing to the eye."  
Leon leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands together and looking out across the pond.  
"What can I do?" He says, with a hint of despair.  
"Tell Miss Dee the truth. She loves you. She'll understand." Mephistopheles declares.  
"But how do I make it stop?" Leon asks.  
"Only Miss Warren can remove the trigger, after which your subconsious fixation with her should fade." Mephistopheles murmurs. "But as the trigger is having exactly the effect she intended, I think the likelihood of her deactivating it is practically non-existant."

Cut to another flashback (black and white). In 1948, Douglas emerges from his room in the guest house that he's booked himself and Ella into. He goes to knock on the door to her room, but pauses when he hears strange noises coming from within. After listening for several seconds, he cautiously pens the door and looks in. He sees Ella sitting crosslegged in front of her room's tiny fireplace, which is lit, speaking aloud some sort of incantation in a strange, unfamilar language. She has her back to him, and is only wearing a pair of black cami-knickers. Douglas is so surprised that he stumbles, then practically falls into the room. Ella doesn't even glance around.  
"Come in, Douglas." She says calmly. "Close the door behind you."  
Douglas scrambles to his feet and closes the door. He risks a nervous glance in Ella's direction, then looks away, embarrassed.  
"There's no shame in this room, Douglas." Ella announces, gazing into the flames in front of her. "Watch closely. Consider this part of your new education."  
Douglas's eyes are drawn back to her, as she starts speaking the incantation again, and picks an intricately designed dagger off the floor alongside her. Ella calmly slashes open the palm of one hand with the dagger, then places the bleeding hand directly into the flames, which suddenly hiss and burn darker. Her voice wavers slightly as she does this, but otherwise she keeps performing the incantation without any pause. Douglas continues watching, horrified, as Ella removes her hand and picks up a scrap of paper from the top of a tiny pile of paper by her side. Douglas just has time to see several symbols written on the scrap of paper, before Ella tosses it into the fire. As the paper burns, he thinks he sees the smoke emerging from the fire change into a specific but unrecognisable shape for a split second, before vanishing up the small chimmey. Having watched the flames carefully, Ella takes the next scrap of paper from the pile, throws it into the fire, and again another shape is briefly formed. She performs this task repeatedly, until the last scrap of paper burns. Then she takes a jug of water and pours it into the fireplace, extinguishing the flames. Reaching into the grate, she scoops up a pile of ash in her hand and rubs it over the front of her body. Unfolding her legs, she stands up and turns to face Douglas, who looks wide-eyed at her semi-naked, ash-covered figure.  
"Attend to me, Douglas." She commands, staring him in the eye.  
"Wha – what do you – what do you want me to do?" He stammers.  
"There's a pencil and paper on the chest of drawers next to you." Ella replies. "Take them and copy the symbols you're about to see. Be very careful to copy them exactly as they appear. Take however much time you need, but make sure you do it correctly. It's very important. Understood?"  
Dry-mouthed, Douglas grabs the pencil and paper and merely nods. Ella tilts back her head and gazes at the ceiling, then closes her eyes, holds her arms aloft and starts to perform another incantation. As Douglas stares in disbelief, the ash smeared in her body starts to move, shift, and form into strange symbols. Meaningless to him, but clearly of great importance to her. Recovering his wits, he squats down on the floor in front of her and does as she requested, taking great care to duplicate each symbol as closely as he can, every angle, the thickness of each line, copied to the best of his ability. All the time he tries to push to the back of his mind not only that what he's witnessed tonight is impossible, but also that a beautiful young girl is standing mere inches from him, gloriously, unashamedly, in fact proudly semi-naked, wearing nothing but a single flimsy garment.  
"I've finished." He eventually reports, putting down the pencil.  
"Let me see." Ella says, and he holds the papers up for her while bashfully avoiding looking at her.  
With a smile of amusement, Ella takes the papers and then – all business again - studies the symbols.  
"Good work." She declares. "Yes, these confirm what I saw in the smoke, but I had to check to be sure." She looks down at him as he remains sitting on the floor, seeming too nervous to move until instructed. "I'm dirty. Go and ask the proprietor if he has a tin bath."

Cut to the present (colour): the charity function in Edinburgh. David Tyrell and Jo are catching up on old times, laughing at private jokes.  
"It's good to see you again Jo." Says David. He pauses, as though what he's about to say next was blindingly obvious, but he's only just realised it: "I've missed you."  
Jo smiles. Genuinely, warmly.  
"Well," she offers, "I've missed you too."  
He asks her if she's free to have dinner that night.

Cut to 1948 (black and white). Ella is relaxing in a tin bath in her room in the guest house. It's not large enough for her to lay in, but she can lean back in a semi-sitting position. The bath is half-full of water. Having cleared out the wet ashes from the grate and relit the fire, Douglas has hung a bucket of water on a metal frame over the flames to heat up. He places a finger into the water to see how warm it is, then using two bunched-up pieces of cloth to protect his hands from the heated metal, he lifts the bucket from the frame and pours the water over Ella, who sighs as it cascades over her.  
"Do you want to me to fetch some more water?" Douglas asks, clearly still uncomfortable and somehow managing to avoid looking at her any more than he has to. She opens her eyes and fixes her gaze upon him.  
"My real name is Ella Dee." She announces, ignoring his question but instead choosing to answer the unspoken many that have been bouncing around Douglas's head since he stumbled into her room. "I am the last of the Anointed Ones, ordained by God to fight the forces of Hell. The legal firm you work for was originally established due to a substantial investment provided by me."  
"But…the firm was founded over two centuries ago." Murmurs Douglas.  
"Indeed. I am almost four hundred years old." Ella informs him. "The firm has served me since it's formation. Each generation of senior partners is entrusted with my secret, and they pass that information on their successors….and any employees of the firm who they believe can…assist me." She concludes, running her eyes over him.  
Douglas tries to get his head around what she's just told him.  
"So, why have we come here?" He eventually asks, for lack of a better question.  
Ella stands up, water flowing off of her supple body. Douglas self-consiously glances at the floor  
"Past me that towel." She orders, pointing at one folded inside her suitcase, which is placed open on the bed.  
He does so, and as she starts to dry herself, she answers his question;  
"What you regard as 'reality' is not set in stone, as you might imagine, but actually finely balanced." Ella says. "I can sense changes to the natural order, factors upsetting the rhythm of things, affecting the equilibrium. I've been drawn here by an outbreak of underworldly energy. Magicks that don't belong in this world. And the ritual you witnessed me performing has enabled me to identity the precise location of the source."  
Having finished drying her upper body, she wraps the towel around herself.  
"Carry me to the bed." She demands.  
Nervously, Douglas moves behind her and positions himself, placing one arm behind her back, just beneath her shoulders, and his other arm behind her knees. Ella gently leans back into his arms, helping him to scoop her up, and lift her free of the bath. He carries her over to the bed and places her down next to the suitcase. She unwraps the towel from around herself and proceeds to dry her legs and feet.  
"I should get some bandages, for your hand." Douglas offers, trying to think of something straight forward and practical he can do, to put off having to come to terms with the bizarre new world he's suddenly become a part of.  
"Why?" Queries Ella, displaying her hand for him.  
It's unmarked. No sign of the cut she'd earlier inflicted upon herself, nor any indication of a burn.  
"One of the benefits of immortality." She explains, in answer to his bewildered gaze. "Sit down, Douglas." She smiles. "I realise that this is all a great deal to absorb all at once."  
Douglas doesn't need telling twice. He heavily sits down on the edge of the bed. Ella finishes drying herself. Tying the towel around her body, she gets up, closes her suitcase and places it by the side of the bed. Then she stands in front of the young legal clerk.  
"Remind me again what the senior partners' instructions to you were?" She asks.  
"To act as your guardian and chaperone, deal with any financial matters, the accommodation arrangements, and to provide any further assistance that you may require." Recites Douglas, almost fumbling over a few of the words.  
"Well," smiles Ella, untying the towel and letting it drop to the floor, "I'm in need of assistance."  
She places her hands on his shoulders, and surprises him with her strength as she pushes him back onto the bed, while clambering on top of him, straddling him. Then she starts unbuttoning his shirt.  
"Wait." Douglas murmurs, nervously. "I – I've never –"  
Ella places her forefinger on his lips, shushing him.  
"Don't worry." She smiles slyly, removing her finger and leaning down to kiss him. "I have."

Cut back to the present (colour). David knocks on Jo's hotel room door. After a couple of seconds Jo answers, opening the door just a foot. We can see over Tyrell's shoulder that her hair is wet and she's wearing just a towel.  
"Oh Jo, I'm so sorry." David apologises, clearly embarrassed. "I knew I was early, but I didn't mean to… why don't just go down to the bar and wait for you there?"  
"No no," says Jo, smiling, "come in. It won't take me long to dry my hair and get ready."  
"You're sure?" Asks Tyrell.  
"I insist." She replies firmly, as opens the door wider.  
David pauses for a moment, then steps inside. Jo closes the door behind him.  
"Your room's more impressive than mine." Comments Tyrell light-heartedly as he looks around at the lavish surroundings. Jo doesn't reply immediately, but instead gazes at his back for a couple of seconds, as though mulling something over in her mind.  
"David," she says "to be honest I'm not really in a restaurant mood. We've both spent all day in crowded rooms full of other people, so why don't we order room service and stay here? We can really talk and catch up properly, instead of the usual small talk when you're worried about the waiters or the people at the next table listening in."  
He considers her suggestion for a minute, then nods.  
"Why not?" He declares.

Cut to 1948 (black & white). We're in a church. The only light is coming from numerous lit candles, placed the length of the building's interior. At the end of the aisle, before the altar, four men dressed in long black hooded robes are gathered. Each has a different symbol painted in red on the front of their robes. A table has been placed in front of the altar, and another two hooded men are throwing a large symbol-covered heavy cloth sheet over it, then smoothing it down. Another hooded figure emerges from a side door, followed by a pretty young girl - in her early twenties - who has long, dazzling blonde hair and is wearing a simple, white, ankle-length nightdress. She appears to be in some kind of trance: her face is calm but emotionless, and while she stares straight ahead, her eyes don't seem to be taking in her surroundings. Reaching the table, the barefoot girl raises herself to sit upon it. Then she turns her body round, lifting her legs up onto the table, and finally lies flat upon it. As the other six hooded figures gather on the side of the table facing the aisle, the one who led the girl in produces a large cloth-wrapped book, which looks very old and discoloured. Cradling the book in one arm, the figure carefully opens the book at a page marked with a silken bookmark, and begins to speak in a strange language. As this continues, the camera plans along the aisle, and we see two heads poke over the top of the pew furthest from the altar: Ella and Douglas. He's wearing grey pinstripe trousers, black shoes and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. Ella's wearing her familiar arse-kicking coat, a grey polo-necked jumper, khaki trousers and black army boots.  
"Looks like your spell was right." Whispers Douglas.  
"Classic virgin sacrifice." Ella nods. "Alright, here's the plan. I'll distract them, you hug the wall, get to the altar, grab the girl, then get her out of here."  
"That's it?" Douglas asks.  
"That's it." Ella confirms.  
"But there's seven of them." He murmurs. "Wouldn't it be better if I -"  
"No." Ella interupts. "I'm an Anointed One, Douglas. This is what I do."  
Before he has time to react, Ella stands up, moves to the foot of the aisle and starts walking down it.  
"Sorry I'm late." She announces loudly, causing all the hooded figures facing the table to swing round. "It's been ages since my last sacrifice. Couldn't remember the proper dress code. Will I do?"  
The man with the book - clearly the leader - barks an order, and his six underlings race towards Ella. But due to the narrowness of the aisle, they're only able to run at her in pairs.  
"Golly." Gulps Douglas, then he scurries, keeping as low as possible, behind the end pew to the wall of the church.  
Reaching it, he swiftly begins making his way - still crouching low - past the pews towards the altar. Meanwhile, the first two hooded figures have reached Ella, who dispatches one with a lightning-fast punch to the face, feeling bones break and teeth dislodge beneath her fist, then she ducks a wild swinging blow from the second, and turns the ducking motion into a dazzlingly quick spin that ends with a high kick to the side of the second man's head. He starts to collapse sideways inbetween the pews, and Ella leaps over him as he falls, one leg shooting forward like a piston and burying her foot into the face of the third attacker. As gravity takes over and she starts to descend towards the stone floor, Ella lashes out with her other foot, her mid-air kick impacting deep into the fourth man's stomach before she lands in a crouched, cat-like stance. As the fourth man staggers forward, Ella rises from the floor, the base of her upraised palm smashing into his nose, shatttering it.  
Meanwhile, Douglas has reached the pew nearest to the altar. After a second's pause to collect his courage, he walks determinedly, fists cletched, towards the altar. The man with the book is so preoccupied watching his underlings tustle with Ella that he doesn't even notice the legal clerk approach until Douglas is only a couple of feet away. As the leader turns to look at him, Douglas acts purely on instinct and punches the hooded man on the chin. Taken by surprise, the ritualist staggers and then falls spralling backwards. Barely pausing, an adrenalin-fuelled Douglas scoops the young girl off the table, and holding her in his arms, heads back the way he came, carrying her between the pews and the interior wall.  
Back to the fray, and one of the last two hooded men tries to bypass the downed second pair, who are lying collapsed in the aisle, by jumping on top of one of the pews. But before he can outflank Ella, she sweeps her arm out in an arc, striking the lower backs of his legs and knocking both out from under him. He falls backwards, his head and spine landing on the pews behind him with an audible crack. Ella turns her attention to the sixth hooded attacker.  
The group's leader scrambles to his feet just in time to see the sixth and last man collapse at Ella's feet. The Anointed One pauses, sensing that the ritualist will prove more troublesome than his followers. Behind Ella, Douglas takes one last nervous look back, then - with his beautiful cargo - hurries out of the church.  
The leader carefully places the book on the ground, and as he straightens he starts to quickly murmur a babble of words in apparently the same strange language he was utilising in the ritual. Tiny but bright streams of energy start to flow and spark between his fingers. Unfazed, Ella reaches into the folds of her coat, producing and snapping together the two halves of the Volta staff, as the hooded man's chanting increases in volume until he's practically shouting. He raises his hands and two crackling streams of energy flare from his palms, meeting and merging a few feet in front of him to form one eyesearingly bright energy bolt that shoots through the air towards Ella as she raises the Volta, holding it horizonally with both hands. The crackling, hissing bolt strikes the staff - and the Volta absorbs it.  
The ritualist's eyes widen in astonishment. Ella hasn't even been swayed backwards. She smiles at his dumbfounded expression.  
"My turn." The Anointed One declares, and she fires his energy bolt back at him - many times magnified.  
Incredibly powerful, it hits the leader in the chest and blows him backwards through the air, even as it erupts out of his back. As he is thrown, yelling, towards the altar, streams of energy erupt out of the entry and exit wounds in his chest and back, and also out of his hands, mouth, nostrils and eyes - the latter causing his eyeballs to burst from their sockets. He crashes onto the altar - and his body violently explodes. The altar is instantly reduced to fragments, as the shockwave of the explosion shoots sideways - left and right - and the lower part of the walls of the church on both sides close to the altar are blown outwards. The upper part of the walls collapse downwards, bringing a section of the roof down with them. Ella turns and sprints up the aisle as the shockwave of the initial blast starts to travel the length of the church, tossing the pews aloft, two or three at a time, and blowing out more of the lower walls. She emerges from the stricken building, still running, to find Douglas cradling the young girl on the tomb nearest to the church in the surrounding graveyard.  
"You can kiss her later!" Ella yells, shooting past him without breaking stride. "Just run!"  
Douglas gathers up the girl and hurries between the gravestones in Ella's footsteps, as behind them the remaining lower side walls of the church - including those either side of the entrance and beneath the church tower - are blown outwards. The upper sections fall downwards, taking with them what's left of the roof. The square church tower sways and slowly collapses, falling onto what was the main body of the church. Stone and masonry dust forms into thick billowing clouds, and hangs heavily in the air.  
Crouched behind a tomb at the furthest edge of the graveyard, Ella examines the blonde girl, who is still safely held in Douglas's arms, with her eyes still gazing unquestioningly straight ahead.  
"Will she be alright?" Asks Douglas.  
"Simple mesmerism, easily reversed." Ella announces. "If we can find out where she lives, we might even be able to return her to her bed, and she'll wake up tomorrow without remembering a thing about what happened tonight."  
The Anointed One leans back against the cold stone and regards the young legal clerk.  
"Good work Douglas." She murmurs with a grin.  
He smiles sheepishly in return.

Cut to Douglas's house in Hobb's End in the present (colour). Several photo albums lie open on the coffee table, indicating that Douglas has been proudly showing Ella what he and his family have been doing during the last few decades. Alice leaves the room to make a pot of tea. Once she's sure Alice is out of earshot, Ella tells Douglas that she got his letter, and asks him if it means what she thinks it means.  
"Yes." He says. "It's starting again."

Cut to Ella's cramped basement flat. Thelma cautiously enters, trying and failing not to act suspicious, and looks around.  
"Hello? Ella? Midge? Leon? Anyone here?" She calls out.  
The main living area is empty. She opens the door to Ella & Leon's room; the duvet is lying crumped across the mattress, some of Ella's outfits are hanging on the walls, and there's a bulging bin-liner stood upright in the corner, stuffed beyond capacity with clothes spilling out, awaiting the trip to the laundrette. Thelma then checks the bathroom: nobody there either. She has the flat to herself.  
"Just me then." She declares.  
There's a towering pile of cardboard boxes untidily crammed into a corner of the living room. Thelma lifts two boxes off the top of the pile and starts searching through one of them.  
"Where are you?" She mutters. "I'm sure you're here somewhere? Ah-ha!"  
She holds up the Stone of Behial, her expression of triumph only lasting a couple of seconds. She looks at the gem ruefully.  
"Hello you." She murmurs.  
Carefully putting the boxes and their other contents back as she found them, Thelma takes one last glance round, a saddened, resigned look on her face, then leaves the flat. The camera stays in the main living room as she goes, and we hear her close the door to the flat behind her. We then pan through the still-open door to Ella and Leon's room. Several seconds pass. Then in the corner, the bulging bin-liner suddenly starts to shift and move, clothes spilling and falling out of the top onto the floor, as something - _someone_ - who was crouching, hiding, inside starts to straighten up. More items of clothing are forced out as a head topped with distinctive red and green hair breaks the surface. Mary Warren stands upright, clothes cascading down her, and surveys the room. Stepping out of the crumped bag, she reaches up and removes a black camisole top that's draped across her shoulder. Holding it to her face, she inhales deeply.  
"Ella." She smiles. "I've missed your scent."  
A faded red t-shirt has caught on the cuff of the bright blue leather jacket she's wearing. Dropping the camisole top, she detaches the shirt and smells it also.  
"Leon." She purrs in anticipation.

Fade to black.  
On-screen caption: To Be Continued.


	9. Deal Or No Deal

**Episode #9: Deal Or No Deal.**

Previously on Hex: a brief clip from Episode #3 – Lilith saying "And the search for the other item?"  
Brief clips fron Episode #4 - Jo and Corvide throwing the runes, which remain suspended in midair; Ella saying "It's been altered slightly. There's various words, phrases and some entire passages that I can't quite place."  
Brief clips from Episode #7 – Mary saying to Leon "Show me what you're made of"; Ella cradling Leon's head in her hands and saying "What did they do to you?"; Mary on the television screen, saying "I took advantage of him, Ella."; Corvide saying "We have obtained two first-generation copies. We are closer than ever before."; Jo saying "Everything's on schedule."  
Brief clips from Episode #8 - Malachi saying "She isn't in Heaven, Thelma"; Malachi saying to Thelma "The Stone of Belial. I want it./if you aren't here to give it to me, then your Irish bitch girlfriend will burn in agony for all eternity"; Mephistopheles saying to Leon "Mary did more than just abuse you. She mentally conditioned you, by placing a trigger in your mind"; Jo wearing just a towel, saying to Tyrel in her hotel room "why don't we order room service and stay here?"; Ella running along the aisle of the church in Hobb's End in 1948, pursued by the shockwave of the explosion; the church tower collapsing; Douglas in the present saying to Ella "It's starting again"; Thelma holding up the Stone of Belial.

On-screen caption: Four years ago.  
Wearing a French maid's outfit, complete with a very short skirt that reveals she's wearing stockings and suspenders, Thelma walks across green, flat, overgrown grassland, until she reaches a tall chainlink fence. A notice on the fence reads 'Danger. Do Not Enter. Hazardous Structure.' The camera then moves directly behind Thelma and pulls back, so Thelma is a small figure in the foreground at the centre of the screen. Spread in front of her, beyond the fence, are the burned out ruins of Medenham. The building's roof and all of it's floors above the ground are gone, and the structure is now just a shell. Most of the walls are still standing, the windows gaping open like eye sockets. Thelma squeezes through a gap where the fence has come away from one of the metal posts, and go walking through the ruins. She looks about sadly.  
"It's true what they say," she muses to herself "You can never go home."  
She tries to get her bearings;  
"Now if the main stairway was… there, then the library would have been…"  
Thelma walks off, eventually coming to a blackened area filled with shattered pieces of stone masonry and roof tiles. She gazes about on the ground, looking for something;  
"C'mon, don't let me down… Yes!"  
She's spotted something. Reaching down, Thelma lifts up a piece of stone roughly the size of a housebrick. Poking out from underneath was a neatly folded plastic bag. Thelma opens the bag, looks inside, then pulls out a piece of white A4 paper, folded in half. She unfolds it and quickly reads whatever is written on it. She laughs.

Cut to the reading room of the British Library. It's the middle of the night and the place is – of course – empty. Thelma walks purposely down one of the walkways between the rows of reading stations, towards the only station where a light is on. A figure can be seen hunched over the station in question, seemingly engrossed in one of several large volumes that are spread out and laid open. Thelma comes to a halt next to the figure. "Got your message." She says.  
Peggy looks up: "Thelma! How wonderful to see you!"  
They hug. Peggy is wearing her usual 1920s pyjama suit, and a large silk wrap is draped over the back of her chair. She glances at one of the large ornate clocks on the nearest wall.  
"The guard makes his rounds in five minutes." She tells Thelma. "Help me put these books back, then we can catch up. I can't wait to hear all your news."

Cut to the reading room, a couple of hours later. Pointing straight down, the camera pans across the floor, and we see items of clothing – parts of Thelma's outfit, Peggy's pyjama suit – lying disgarded. We can hear Thelma talking;  
" – then Roxy was sacrificed by Malachi, Medenham went up in flames, and we barely got out in one piece. We've been in hiding since then, and we've just discovered that now his book's reached the top of the best-seller's lists on both sides of the Atlantic, Malachi's establishing his own church. So, to sum up, Cassie died and was exiled to darkness, Maya died a second time and was taken away from me, I blame myself for Roxy getting killed, and Malachi's rolling in money and setting up a powerbase from which he can end the world."  
The camera reaches Peggy and Thelma, who are lying on the floor facing each other with Peggy's silk wrap over them like a blanket.  
"You poor thing. You're really been through the wars, haven't you?" Murmurs Peggy, reaching out and caressing Thelma's face. "But why do you blame yourself for what happened to that Roxanne girl?"  
"She trusted me." Replies Thelma sadly. "I made her think I was an angel. I warned her to stay away from Malachi, but I really should have told her to get away from Medenham altogether, as far and as quickly as possible. But I didn't, and she died."  
Peggy thinks carefully before replying;  
"Based on what you've told me, Malachi and this Jo woman had already penciled in Roxanne to be their sacrifice." She murmurs. "They would have prevented her from leaving, whether you had warned her or not. You shouldn't blame yourself Thelma."  
Thelma nods slightly, still not fully convinced, but acknowledging the logic in her friend's argument.  
"Now tell me, where did you get that wonderful outfit?" Says Peggy, trying to lighten the mood.  
Thelma grins sheepishly;  
"A kissagram fell down a fire escape and broke her neck." She explains. "When I saw it in the morgue I couldn't resist."  
They both giggle. Thelma takes one of Peggy's hands and holds it in both of her own.  
"Can I ask you something personal?" She ventures.  
"Go on." Peggy nods.  
"All the ghosts I've met have become ghosts due to being sacrificed, or by having some supernatural element in their deaths." Thelma says cautiously, choosing her words with care. "Me, Maya, and I know Cassie lingered here briefly after she died. Leon's told me that Tom also stayed for a while, before moving on. And I suspect Roxy's still hanging about somewhere, though I've not met her. I don't know what I'll say to her if I do."  
"But?" Says Peggy, anticipating what the younger ghost is about to say.  
"But you told me you died from influenza." Thelma continues. "And based on everything I've learnt and experienced, becoming a ghost isn't that random. Now, I know that it was originally Azazeal's and now Malachi's presence on Earth that interferes with reality and enables ghosts to exist in the first place, but it seems that people only become ghosts if something magical or Hellish was involved in their deaths."  
Peggy smiles bashfully;  
"So you want to know why I'm still here, ninety years after being killed by nothing more than a very nasty virus?" She replies.  
"Sorry." Murmurs Thelma, slightly embarrassed. "I don't mean to pry. It's just something I've never been able to make sense of."  
Peggy kisses the younger girl's hand.  
"Don't worry. It's not a secret." She assures Thelma. "With me, it wasn't a case of how I died, but who I knew. My best friend - when I was alive - was called Victoria. We'd known each other since childhood. I was chief bridesmaid at her wedding, when she married a renowned musician named Anton Phibes. He was a remarkable man in many ways, who shared my interest in Ancient Egyptology, though it was clear he knew many things which he would never divulge to me." Peggy pauses. "Victoria and Anton visited me when I was on my deathbed. While Victoria was out of the room, Anton told me that as I had been such a good friend to his wife and himself, and because there was so much more I wanted to learn, he had taken steps to ensure that death would only claim my body, and my spirit would remain in this realm to allow me to continue my studies. And he spoke the truth."  
"Wow." Murmurs Thelma. "Talk about knowing the right people. So how's the research going?"  
"Every mystery I solve merely reveals several new ones." Peggy smiles contentedly. "I honestly don't think I've ever tire of it."  
"As you're the biggest history buff I know, I have a favour to ask." Thelma ventures.  
"Name it." The older ghost declares, clearly pleased at the thought of a fresh challenge.  
"Have you ever researched the history of the Medenham witches?" Thelma asks

On-screen caption: Two years ago.  
A typical street in one of the more pricier suburbs. Several cars are parked on the long driveway to one of the houses. Further along, on the opposite side of the road, Thelma and Peggy are standing under the shadow of a tall tree. Peggy is wearing her ever-present pyjama suit and silk throw, while Thelma has a white hoodie zipped up to her chin and matching tracksuit bottoms. The two ghosts watch as a young girl, wearing black leggings and a tight-fitting top, with a bag slung over her shoulder, walks along the street. It's Midge, her hair considerably longer than it is in the present. She heads up the long driveway where all the cars are parked, towards the house.  
"So that's her?" Asks Thelma, though it's more of a statement than a question.  
"According to my research." Replies Peggy. "I've been keeping a discreet eye on her. She attends every week."  
"And you're sure she has the gift?" Thelma enquires.  
"You're seen her aura." Peggy murmurs. "If that's any indication – and it normally is - I'd say she definitely possesses the sight."  
Thelma nods: "I'd better make contact then. Wish me luck." She says, setting off in the direction of the house.  
"Thelma sweetie," Peggy calls out, stopping the younger ghost before she's taken more than a couple of paces, "I love you dearly, but that's really not a good look for you." Peggy waves her hand up and down, indicating Thelma's attire. "If you appear to her wearing that, she'll think it's Night of the Living Chav."  
"I know," Thelma mutters, gazing down at her clothes, "but beggars can't be choosers. These were the only things that fitted me down at the morgue. Besides, what else can I wear?"  
The two ghosts look at each other. Then Thelma gazes appraisingly up and down at Peggy's outfit and grins. The older woman sighs and rolls her eyes in exasperation.

Cut to a darkened room inside the house. The curtains are drawn and the only light is coming from two candles placed at either end of a long table, at which Midge and seven other people are seated. Taking their lead from a middle-aged woman at the head of the table, everyone has placed their hands palms down on the table, and are sitting silently, eyes closed, waiting for the departed to make contact.  
"Psst." Someone whispers.  
Midge sits up slightly and raises her head, but keeps her eyes closed, not sure if she heard something or not.  
"Psst." That sound again.  
Midge opens one eye. Wearing Peggy's pyjama suit and with a huge smile on her face, Thelma is standing on the other side of the table, inbetween two of the other attendees. She waves at Midge.  
"Hello." She exclaims breezily.  
Opening her other eye, Midge looks at Thelma in surprise, then at the others around the table. Nobody else has moved or reacted, or shown any indication of having heard the newcomer. Glancing at Thelma again, Midge goes to speak, but Thelma shushes her by frantically waving, while putting the forefinger of her other hand to her lips.  
"They can't see me or hear me." The ghost explains with a grin. "If you tell them I'm here, they'll just think you're a nutcase."  
Thelma then clambers up onto the table and sits crosslegged in front of Midge.  
"How about a bit of role-reversal?" Suggests Thelma. "Instead of me knocking on the table, how about I ask the questions, and you either nod yes, or shake your head no?"  
No sure how to react, Midge nods.  
"Great." Gushes Thelma. "So, do you come her often?"  
Midge cautiously nods.  
"Well, I'm a newbe. It's my first time at a séance." Thelma tells her. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but I figured it might be a laugh. I actually thought it might be like an AA meeting. You know, 'Hello everyone, I'm Thelma and I'm dead'."

Cut to the street outside. With her shoulders, legs and feet all bare, Peggy stands under the tree observing the house, with only her silk wrap - which she is holding tightly around herself - protecting her modesty. She has a look of amused resignation on her face.  
"Invisible I may be, but I wouldn't do this for anyone but you, Thelma." She sighs to herself.  
Opening titles.

We're in Ella's basement flat. Leon enters. Nobody else is there. He takes off his coat and casually tosses it onto the sofa, then goes into the cramped bedroom. There's the shape of someone lying under the duvet. Leon sits down on the mattress, reaches out and gently gives the person a shake.  
"Ella?" He says. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."  
"She's not." Declares the person under the duvet, lazily pushing it back from her face as she sits up.  
For a second all Leon can see is her distinctive red and green hair.  
"Hello Leon." Grins Mary.  
Leon springs up in alarm, stumbles backwards and collides with the wall.  
"You're not here." He garbles, eyes wide and close to panic. "You're not real. This is just a dream. I'm dreaming."  
Mary stands up on the centre of the mattress, the duvet falling away. She's wearing just a bright blue sports bra and a purple leather mini-skirt.  
"You know, they say that if you realise you're dreaming, but you don't wake up, then it means you're not dreaming." She remarks.  
Before Leon can react, Mary advances and lunges upon him, grabbing his head in both hands and kissing him passionately. Breaking away from the kiss, she stares him in the eye.  
"How real do I feel?" She challenges him.  
"Wha – what do you want?" He eventually chokes.  
Mary releases her hold on his head and starts to casually walk around the confined room, examining and feeling some of Ella's outfits hanging up on the walls as she talks;  
"No doubt you've become aware that I left you with a little memento from our previous liaison." She announces. "And I know you've not told Ella about it. Instead you've left it to fester like a dirty little secret. Now, the way I see it, you have two choices: the first is to keep Ella in the dark, but over time she'll start to wonder why you don't make love to her anymore, or hardly ever hold her anymore, and eventually why you can't even bring yourself to look at her. Anger, guilt, rejection, accusations, recriminations, distrust, heartbreak, pain and all other kinds of unholy mess will follow." She pauses and look directly at Leon. "I wouldn't recommend it."  
His back still against the wall, Leon slowly, wearily, slides down to a sitting position.  
"Your second choice" Mary continues "is to come clean. Sit Ella down and spill your guts out to her. Of course this means she'll know from that day onwards that everytime you make love to her, or hold her, or look at her, etc, you're actually be thinking of yours truly." Mary jabs both her thumbs towards her chest. "And no matter how understanding Ella tries to be – and she'll try, I know she will - exactly how long do you think your relationship will last with me metaphorically sharing the martial bed each night?"  
She stops directly in front of Leon and crouches down to look him in the eye.  
"However, there is a third option." Mary says, reaching forward and prodding the centre of Leon's forehead with her forefinger. "That I simply remove what I put in there. Of course, I will expect something in return."  
Leon looks at her dejectedly, the look on his face is of a man defeated.  
"What do you want?" He sighs.  
Mary smiles, leans forward, and whispers in his ear: "I want a baby."  
As she leans back, to rest in her crouching position, Leon gapes at her.  
"But Ella told me that Anointed Ones can't conceive." He exclaims. "It's one of the prices of being immortal."  
"Correct. And normally that would be the case," Mary replies, "but the physical and biological impact to my body of being brought forward in time resulted in some interesting side-effects. Shortly after I arrived in this time frame three years ago, I had a period for the first time since 1785. I realised that I had become fertile, capable of conceiving a child. However, I knew this wouldn't last, and that it was purely a temporary condition. And now, my body is finally starting to adjust to it's transition through time, and within a few weeks I will become infertile again. Previously this did not concern me, but now that I have become aware of how little actual time is left, I realise that if I am to ever have a child, it must be now, before the choice is taken away from me. And I choose you to be the father."  
"Why me?" Asks Leon. "Why not just go to a fertility clinic and use donated sperm? Or with your powers, you could pick any man off the street, take control of his body, and force him to have sex with you."  
"No no no." Murmurs Mary, shaking her head. "All far too impersonal. Do you really think that's the memory I want to have when I look at my child? Or when he or she grows up and asks me about their father? No, I need someone to do this willingly."  
"Willingly?" Snorts Leon in disbelief. "You're blackmailing me!"  
"I said willingly, not by choice." Mary counters. "The two things aren't the same. Besides, would it really be so terrible? You might find the experience quite pleasurable. If fact, I'm certain you will. You know, many of the tricks Ella uses in the bedroom she learnt from me."  
"You still haven't explained why me, though." Murmurs Leon, stung by that last remark but recovering quickly; "What makes me so special?"  
"Ella and I used to share everything, Leon." Mary replies. "Everything…and everyone. Let's just say it's a habit I'm finding hard to break. Besides, to keep Ella satisfied for five years – and to have her choose you over Malachi - you must be something special."  
She reaches out and caresses his check. He flinches, only slightly – and maintains his gaze at her. Mary smiles.  
"You're the alpha male, Leon. No-one else will do." She declares.  
Leon gazes at her, his mind going over his situation again and again, trying to find a way out, to think of another option. But there isn't one. Mary has him precisely where she wants him, faced with only three choices, none of them good. After several seconds, Leon speaks. And when he does, his voice sounds very small and faint;  
"Alright." He whispers. "I'll do it."  
"Excellent." Smiles Mary in triumph. "But there is one further condition."  
"What's that?" He asks weakly.  
"I'm not just interested in sex, Leon." She says. "This isn't a quick 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am' deal. I want to spend the entire night with you. I want foreplay. Tenderness. Consideration. I want you to make love to me."  
"I can't do that." Murmurs Leon hoarsely, so quietly he can barely be heard.  
"Then I'll settle for you faking it." Mary counters, her smug grin never wavering. "Just so long as you're convincing." She straightens up, unzips the mini-skirt and tugs it down over her shapely legs, revealing black lace knickers decorated with tiny red bows.  
"Those are Ella's." Leon gapes. "I bought them for her."  
"But they look better on me, don't you think?" Mary murmurs slyly, stepping out of the skirt. "I thought about putting on one of Ella's bras as well, but they're all too small for me."  
She begins to pull the sports bra over her head. "You've slept with one Anointed One, Leon. Time for you to complete the set."

Cut to Jo's hotel room. Jo and Tyrell are both lying on the double bed, discussing shared memories and laughing. He's taken off his suit jacket and she's barefoot, wearing just black jeans and a matching t-shirt. A room service tray containing two empty plates in on the floor next to the bed, accompanied by a few small empty bottles from the mini-bar.  
"I have a confession to make." Jo murmurs. "I had an ulterior motive when I suggested staying in tonight."  
"Really?" Asks Tyrell, comically raising an eyebrow.  
"There was always something between us David, back at Medenham." She declares simply. "Something unspoken. Something not acted upon. Perhaps we were both too preoccupied with running the school. maybe the timing was all wrong. But now we're both here, and..."  
Rather than finish the sentence, Jo leans across and kisses him. Breaking off the kiss, she gazes at him and murmurs;  
"If you don't want this, just say, and -"  
Tyrell interupts her by kissing her passionately. She responds, and they only break off the kiss when he grabs the bottom of her t-shirt and pulls it off over her head, revealing her black bra containing her ample breasts. Having raised her arms to assist the removal of the t-shirt, Jo starts frantically undoing the buttons on Tyrell's shirt. She gazes into his eyes.  
"I've waited so long for this." She gasps, then they passionately kiss again.

Cut to the graveyard at Hobb's End. It's night-time, but the full moon is providing adequate illumination. Ella skirts the outer wall, cautiously surveying the scene within. We see a flashback to earlier that day, with Ella talking with the elderly Douglas in his front room;  
"As you know, I moved here with Margaret when I retired, and Alice came to look after me after Margaret passed away. Of course, I couldn't tell either of them that the reason I chose to settle here was so I could keep an eye on that church. I always felt that what happened there might happen again, and I wanted to warn you if it did." Douglas explains.  
Smiling, Ella reaches out and caresses the side of his face.  
"I've always valued your loyalty, Douglas. More than I can say. What have you discovered?" She asks.  
"When the original church collapsed in 1948, most of the rubble fell into and filled the crypts and catacombs under the building." Douglas tells her. "When it came to clearing the site, they just removed the debris that was above ground level and covered the rest with fresh turf. Then they built a new church - the one that's there today, much smaller than the original - thirty yards away. Anyway, the new church has been in need of some repair for several years now, and about a month ago some charity announced that it was going to pay for the work to be done. And their contractors are doing up the new church alright - during the day. But one night last week I sneaked out of the house after Alice had gone to bed, and make my way over to the graveyard. A couple of the workmen were there, in the middle of the night, working in a large tent, all lit up inside, on the site where the original church stood."  
"And so you contacted me." Smiles Ella. "Tonight I'll check it out. But I want to warn you, whatever I discover, I won't be coming back here. Somebody's been watchng me lately, and although I'm certain that they haven't followed me to Hobb's End, I won't risk either you or Alice's safety."  
"I understand." Smiles Douglas.  
Ella leans forward and gently kisses him on the lips.  
"My brave Douglas." She murmurs. "I will always remember you fondly."

Cut back to Ella looking over the graveyard wall. She sees the large rectangular tent, as Douglas described it, lit up from within, with voices emerging out into the night air and the shadows of the occupants moving on the canvas. Ella vaults over the wall and heads closer, until she crouches down less than thirty feet from the tent, behind a large headstone next to the main path that leads in & out of the graveyard. After a few seconds, a flap opens in the side of the tent and two men in workmen's clothes emerge, one of them carrying what looks like a large, flat, artist's bag, while the other is putting on a coat. This allows Ella to glimpse that he's wearing a holstered gun, eliminating any lingering doubts she may have had that these are merely honest labourers working overtime. The men walk down the path in Ella's direction, and she waits until they're several feet away, then sprints out from behind the headstone towards them, reaches out and places her foot on another gravestone and uses it to launch herself into the air, leaning back and performing a scissor kick in both men's faces. The man carrying the artist's bag takes the brunt of the kick, his head whipping to the side, a splash of blood squirting out of his mouth and ruptured nose. His companion – who had lunged for his gun upon seeing Ella – stumbles, then topples backwards, the revolver spinning out his hand to be lost somewhere in the darkness. Before he has a chance to try to scramble back up, Ella leaps forward and lands astride him, planting her feet either side of his waist, then she leans down and lands a single quick no-nonsense punch to the face, knocking him out. Straightening, she glances over to the man with the bag, but he's spralled limp and unconscious over a headstone, his legs on one side, his upper body hanging down the other. Ella marches over to the tent and checks inside: there's nobody else there. Then she retrieves the bag from the damp grass where the workman had dropped it, and unzips it. She carefully pulls it's contents into the moonlight, and although it's battered, creased and covered in stone dust, Ella recognises it as the book that the cult leader was ultilising during the sacrifice that she and Douglas interupted in 1948.  
"What makes you so special?" She muses.  
Producing a torch from her pocket, Ella rests the book on a gravestone and starts leafing through it's fading, withered pages. A lone firefly darts about in the air behind her as she carefully studies the various symbols and squiggles that make up the text. A look of recognition starts to dawn in her eyes.  
"Of course…" She murmurs in realisation.  
Suddenly sensing someone close by, Ella starts to turn, as THWACK – Perie whacks her around the head with the flat side of a workman's shovel. Ella goes down as though pole-axed. Perie throws the shovel aside, and steps over the Anointed One to pick up and close the book. After carefully placing the tome back in the artist's bag, she crouches down and checks Ella for a pulse.  
"Still beating strongly." The faerie observes with her usual smile, then she starts tapping a number into her mobile phone.

Cut to Jo's hotel room in Edinburgh. Tyrel is asleep in the bed. Wearing a dark red camisole top and matching thong, Jo is standing at the room's large picture window, the curtains drawn fully back, as though she's drinking in the night-time view of the city. Her mobile starts to vibrate on the dressing table. Jo doesn't turn around, but simply opens her hand, and the phone suddenly flies lightning fast across the room and lands in her palm. She brings it up to her ear.  
"Report." Jo murmurs.  
(Throughout the following conversation, the camera cuts back and forth between Perie and Jo as each of them speaks).  
"I have acquired the item." Perie informs her.  
"And you're sure it's the original?" Jo enquires.  
"Beyond any doubt." The faerie states. "The waves of energy emanating from it are actually flavouring the air." She pauses. "They taste of lemon. With a slight hint of liquorice."  
"I'll be back in London by noon tomorrow. Bring it to me there." Declares Jo.  
"There has been a complication." Perie advises. "The Anointed One is here. She is unconscious now, but she has incapacitated both of our operatives. How should I proceed?"  
"Are our men dead?" Asks Jo.  
"I must confess I have not checked their well-being." The faerie comments, coolly glancing over towards the two men. "But both still appear to be breathing."  
"Trying to move them while they're injured risks attracting too much attention. Kill them." Jo states without hesitation. "If you can, try to make it look like a gay suicide pact."  
"And the Anointed One?" Ventures Perie.  
"Now that we have both the Grimlore and the item, she's no longer a threat to us." Replies Jo. "In fact, there's still a vital part we need her to play, once the other pieces have been put into position. Leave her be."  
"Understood." Says Perie, ending the call.  
The faerie reaches down and tugs Ella across so she's lying on her back.  
"Sisters at last, Anointed One." She murmurs. "I am sure it will be a pleasure working with you."

Cut back to Jo's hotel room.  
There's a knock at the door. Jo already knows who it is, so she just opens the door with a glance. Corvide enters, wearing her usual black business suit with short skirt.  
"Perie has just reported in. We have it." Jo tells her.  
Corvide acknowledges the news with a smile and a nod. Then she catches sight of the slumbering Tyrel.  
"So this is the one you told me about." She remarks. "Did you claim his soul?"  
"It was laid open before me as we made love. I've placed my mark upon it." Jo confirms.  
Corvide has walked over to the bed and is looking down, examining Tyrel's features.  
"Handsome." She comments, approvingly. "He'll make a fine pet for you."  
"I didn't do it for that." Jo says. "He was my closest friend before my time in Hell. Making him my property will protect him, during what's to come."  
"Will you tell him?" Corvide asks.  
"He doesn't need to know, and I have nothing to gain by informing him. Let him remain in blissful ignorance." Jo replies.

Cut to Thelma, walking in the moonlight through the graveyard where Maya's buried. She reaches the bench where she saw Malachi, and sits down. With Thelma placed in the centre of the screen, we go into a fast motion shot, as night turns into early morning, the graveyard getting lighter around her, as she sits there motionless. Malachi saunders up.  
"Morning Thelma." He declares cockily. "Been waiting long?"  
Thelma doesn't look at him.  
"You know that saying, 'I'll sleep when I'm dead'?" She mutters, staring straight ahead. "Well, actually it's the opposite. When you're dead, you don't sleep."  
She turns her head and looks angrily at Malachi, then holds up the Stone of Belial, dangling from it's chain. He cups the Stone in his hand and she releases the chain, letting it coil up on top of the gem. Malachi shoves it into the pocket of his leather jacket.  
"You've got what you wanted. Now keep your side." Thelma declares.  
"You're all business today, aren't you?" Malachi swaggers. "I thought we could chat for a bit. Catch up. Reminisce about old times."  
Thelma just silently glares at him, refusing to rise to the bait. Giving up, he shrugs and rolls his eyes theatrically.  
"You know the drill, Thelma." He mutters dismissively as he walks away, not even bothering to look back at her. "Close your eyes and think of Maya. Give her one for me, why don't you."  
Thelma closes her eyes and sits with her hands placed on her knees, just about managing to be calm. The camera cuts to a close up of Thelma's face, neck and shoulders as she waits patiently. After several seconds, a girl's (right) hand moves across into frame from the left of the screen, and – after hesitating for a moment – gently caresses the side of Thelma's face (her left). Thelma slowly opens her eyes, as – half-guided by the hand – she turns to look to her right. Smiling slightly, Maya is sitting on the bench next to Thelma, turned towards her, wearing the same clothes she had on when she vanished from the morgue five years ago. The Irish ghost leans in and gently kisses Thelma on the lips. As the kiss ends and Maya pulls back, Thelma smiles and her eyes glisten with unshed tears.  
"Hello." Thelma says simply.  
"Hello." Mary replies with her distinctive accent.  
Thelma starts to well up.  
"I'm sorry." She murmurs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as tears start to escape. "I'm so sorry. I –"  
Maya leans across and embraces her, pulling her close and burying Thelma's face against her shoulder. Ending the embrace, she reaches up and holds Thelma's reddened, tear-streaked face in both hands, looking directly at her as she talks;  
"Thelma listen to me. We don't have much time, okay? You've no need to be upset. You've nothing to be sorry for, understand? Nothing." She declares clearly and firmly.  
"But you went to Hell." Protests Thelma. "Malachi told me. For five years. I should have done something, should have stopped it. I should have prevented Ella from -"  
"Thelma, I didn't go to Hell." Maya presses. "You understand? I didn't go."  
Her former lover looks at her, taken aback.  
"But Malachi said - he told me -" Thelma begins.  
Maya takes both of Thelma's hands in her own and presses them to her breast.  
"The last thing I remember, from my time here, is being with you in the morgue." Maya says, speaking clearly and precisely, and keeping eye contact with Thelma throughout. "The next thing I knew , I was falling, it seemed like from miles up. But I wasn't in the sky. There weren't any clouds, and I couldn't see any land below, but I was falling. And I knew what was happening. I don't know how, but I understood that I was going to Hell."  
Thelma goes to say something, but Maya raises a hand and places it on the side of her face, shushing her.  
"But I never made it there." Maya continues. "The speed at which I was falling suddenly slowed down. And a line of angels appeared below me, all members of The Fallen. They were there to intercept me. I don't know why, but they seemed...wary of me, as though they wanted to keep their distance from me. They guided me to Purgatory."  
"Purgatory?" Blinks Thelma, and Maya nods;  
"It's a limbo on the borders of Hell." The Irish girl explains. "It's where souls go when they're not worthy to enter Heaven, but don't deserve to go to Hell. Like a sort of halfway house for the dead. And that's where I stayed, until today."  
Thelma has calmed somewhat, but is still clearly emotional.  
"What was it like?" She bleats.  
Maya thinks for a moment before replying;  
"Strange." She declares, turning her head slightly and looking across the graveyard as she remembers, a quiet smile on her face. "Time works differently there. The past, present and future all seem to collide and overlap. You see things that are happening elsewhere, in Hell, Heaven, even here on Earth. Just brief flashes of events that have happened, or are going to happen."  
Maya suddenly looks back at Thelma with undisguised urgency, her recollection having reminded her of something important;  
"Thelma, I have to tell you - I saw something while I was in Purgatory. One of those flashes. I'm not sure if it was something that had already happened before I arrived there, or something that is going to happen in the future, but you have to tell your friend Ella."  
"What?" Asks Thelma.  
" I saw something erupt out of Hell." Maya explains, pressing her lover's hand tightly against her breast. "Something strong. Powerful. I couldn't make out any details. I didn't want to. But I remember that it had glowing red eyes, as bright as the sun. And I saw some of The Fallen flying around it, flapping their wings. They looked like gnats in comparison. Like tiny flies. They seemed to be scared of it. Thelma...whatever it was, I think it was coming here, to Earth."  
"It might have been one of the Nephilim, being summoned here by Malachi." Offers Thelma.  
"Or maybe it's the Devil." Counters Maya. "Heading to Earth at some point in the future to carry out this End of Days that you told me Malachi is going to trigger."  
"It might never come to that." Thelma says, doing her best to be reassuring, and making a decent fist of it. "If Ella succeeds in killing Malachi, the End of Days will never happen. And as an added bonus"- she grins -"I'll be released as well. I'll be able to join you in the afterlife."  
Hearing this, Maya suddenly looks away, avoiding Thelma's gaze and appearing guilty.  
"Maya?" Murmurs Thelma.  
The Irish ghost shifts nervously on the bench before replying;  
"Thelma... I saw something else while in Purgatory. Something which I knew was the future. It's not what I want, and I don't understand, but... after today, we'll never see each other again."  
Thelma looks at her dumbfounded.  
"I don't -" She starts to say, before Maya cuts her off;  
"Where I'm going... you won't be joining me." The Irish ghost explains, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. "I saw myself in Heaven, Thelma. You weren't there."  
Maya clutches Thelma's face in both hands and starts to cry.  
"It's not what I want. I love you. Please believe me Thelma." She pleads.  
"I do." Blurts out Thelma, still trying to take on board what her lover is telling her. "Of course I -"  
Maya interrupts Thelma by kissing her, hurriedly, passionately. Closing her eyes, Thelma responds, then - suddenly realises she's not kissing anyone. She opens her eyes. And finds herself sitting alone on the bench. Thelma glances around wildly, but there's no-one else in the graveyard. She turns and looks at the headstone over to the left, ten metres away: MAYA ROBERTSON. Then Thelma hugs her knees, folds herself into a near-foetal position, and unleashes a long primal howl of pain, frustration, and hurt.

Cut to the bedroom of Ella's flat. Leon is lying on his back, gazing at the ceiling, the expression on his face unreadable. Mary is lying on her stomach with her head resting sideways on Leon's belly, smiling and stil basking in her afterglow. We can see she has a large tattoo across her back: a black circle with eight arrows radiating out of it, all at forty five degrees to one another. She casually raises herself onto her hands and knees, moves so that her body is directly above of Leon's, and kisses his chest. Then she lowers herself, settling her body down on top of his. Mary places both her hands on Leon's chest, fingers interlocked, and rests her chin on them while gazing at his face.  
"Alpha male indeed." She purrs. "Now I know why Ella's kept you around."  
"She was the only person I'd ever slept with, until now." Leon suddenly announces.  
"I know." Says Mary softly. "I'm glad I was the one to broaden your horizons. Keeping it in the family, so to speak. And talking of families, I'm pregnant. Congratulations Leon. You're going to be a daddy."  
He looks at her in surprise.  
"How can you be so sure?" He asks.  
"My control of my telekinetic powers is so precise that I can use them on a cellular level." Mary smiles. "I made sure that your...deposit...reached the required destination."  
She rolls off of Leon, onto her side, takes hold of one of his hands and places it onto her flat, taut stomach. She holds his hand there, her hand on top of it.  
"Life, Leon." She declares. "A permanent memento of what we did today."  
"So you've got what you wanted." He murmurs after a lengthy pause. "You've got your child."  
"Our child Leon." She corrects him, staring into his eyes. "The child that you can never have with Ella. The one thing you can never give her. And which she can never give you. And if you stay with her, this will be the only time you'll ever be a father."  
"I did what you asked." Leon says, a taut, almost strangled tone creeping into his voice. "What more do you want from me?"  
In response, Mary leans in close, her face barely an inch from his. She pauses there for several seconds, eyes closed, as though breathing him in. Then she opens her eyes and smiles.  
"Nothing." She declares. "You kept your end of the deal, and I will keep mine. When I leave here today, the trigger I placed in your mind will go with me. I'm giving you back your sex life."  
Mary stands up and start gathering her clothes together.  
"Does Ella ever sing to you?" She suddenly asks, not looking at him. "The two of us were in California for a couple of months during the Gold Rush, working in a saloon in this small town that had practically sprung up overnight. The place had a tiny stage, and Ella would get up and sing most nights. The regulars loved it. She has a wonderful voice."  
Leon doesn't respond. Mary glances towards him, smiles and does an almost-shrug, then continues dressing. After several seconds Leon sits up, covered by the duvet from the waist down, watches her for a few more moments, clearly deliberating with himself, before he plucks up the courage to speak;  
"I have a favour to ask." He blurts out nervously.  
Stepping into her thong and pulling it up over her shapely legs, Mary glances over her shoulder at him.  
"Intriguing." She murmurs. "Alright, I'll bite. What is it?"  
"I want you to use your powers to erase what happened last night from my mind." Leon says. "To wipe it from my memory. I don't want to remember that you were here. I just want to recall coming home and falling asleep."  
Mary turns to face him while slipping her sports bra on.  
"Was it really that terrible?" She pouts, pretending to be hurt. "I wouldn't have guessed so, judging by all the noise you made."  
"It's not like that." Insists Leon firmly but cautiously, not wanting to antagonise her. "It's just that I can't tell Ella about...what we did, and I don't want to lie to her either. If you make me forget it, it'll almost be as though it never happened."  
Mary crouches down, then advances towards Leon on all fours.  
"Oh Leon," she chides him, smiling "I had no idea you could be so deceitful. You're even prepared to lie to yourself." She pauses, considering his request. "Alright. But I want a favour in return."  
"I've given you a child." Retorts Leon.  
"And I'm going to remove the trigger in your mind." Mary counters. "But this new request isn't covered by our original agreement. And you're not going to get it for nothing."  
"Okay." Leon murmurs carefully. "What do you want?"  
Mary kneels in front of him.  
"The truth." She declares with a smile. "Did you enjoy inpregnating me? And don't even bother trying to tell me it meant nothing, or that it was purely clinical or just mechanical. I can read your mind, remember? Now, I know that you love Ella and yes, I know that you never would have touched me if I hadn't boxed you into a corner. But I also know that at some point, on a purely physical, animal level, you let yourself go and just surrendered to the experience. You can't fake passion that intense, Leon."  
"If you already know all this, why do you need me to say it?" Says Leon, his voice sounding taut again.  
"Don't go thinking this is all about you, Leon. I just want to hear the man Ella's in love with say it out loud." She responds. "Now...did you enjoy it?"  
After a lengthy pause, Leon finally speaks;  
"Yes. Yes, I enjoyed it." He declares, firmly and defiantly.  
Mary sighs blissfully.  
"Thank you Leon. For everything." She states warmly. "I promise that when you awake, you'll remember nothing of happened here today, and you won't remember right up until the moment you die."  
Mary leans in close to him, and gently kisses him on the lips. He doesn't retreat, but doesn't respond either. As she breaks off the kiss, she whispers two words;  
"Sleep now."  
Leon collapses back onto the mattress, instantly unconscious, his entire body limp. Mary regards him for a moment, then stands up and finishes dressing. Producing a mobile phone from the pocket of her blue leather jacket, she taps in a number.  
"It's done. Come and pick me up. Bring the girl." She speaks into the phone.  
Turning to leave, Mary pauses at the bedroom door and looks back at Leon while he slumbers.  
"Be careful what you wish for, lover." She murmurs, then she's gone.

Cut to the lobby of the hotel in Edinburgh that Jo and Tyrell have been staying in. Both are standing, facing each other. Tyrell's wearing a suit and tie, Jo has on a slinky but respectable low cut black outfit with a skirt that ends just above the knee. Their cases sit on the floor next to them.  
"So… shall we see each other again?" Ventures Tyrell.  
"David, I really should have told this last night," Jo begins cautiously, "but I'm with someone right now. It's an open relationship, but there are certain rules. And one of those rules is that we only see other people if it's casual, nothing more. And if I saw you again, it wouldn't be casual. Do you understand?"  
Tyrell pauses, then nods and smiles. He's disappointed but not particularly surprised.  
"Well, who ever he is, I hope he appreciates how lucky he is. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn't want to share you with anyone." He declares lightheartedly, but ruefully.  
For a lack of something better to do, he rather formerly extends his hand. Jo takes it, and they shake.  
"Goodbye Jo." Says David. "Maybe in the next life."  
Jo smiles enigmatically.  
"Count on it." She purrs.

Cut to the interior of a decaying and long disused warehouse. There are gaping holes in the roof, graffiti has been sprayed over nearly every square inch of the walls, the roof girders are covered in peeling paint and rust, and the floor is littered with massed bird droppings and assorted disgarded refuse. A bright red transit van enters the warehouse through the gaping opening where a shutter door once stood. Reaching the centre of the building, it performs a half turn and comes to a halt. We see that Catherine Cotton is the driver. She has her usual emotionless, unreadable expression on her face.  
The camera cuts to inside the van. There are wooden benches both side of the interior. Mary Warren sits on one, wearing a bright blue leather jacket, tight hipster jeans, and black high-heeled ankle boots. Sitting directly opposite her on the other bench is someone – clearly female - in a baggy cream tracksuit, a black canvas bag over her head, with her wrists taped together and resting in her lap. We can see that the forefinger and middle finger of the mystery woman's right hand have been bandaged together with a makeshift splint.  
Mary leans forwards, resting her elbows on her knees and interlocking her fingers.  
"So here's the deal, Gemma." She announces. "I'm willing to let you go, to toddle off and enjoy the rest of whatever it is you have that you think passes for a life, provided you give me what I want. If you decide not to agree to this offer, I will kill you, here and now. I think you've gotten to know me well enough over the last couple of days to know that I mean what I say. Speaking of which, I think my associate did a fine job of setting your fingers."  
Gemma shifts nervously on the bench.  
"But first, there's something you need to know." Declares Mary. "You're pregnant."  
Gemma noticeably stiffens.  
"Now, I know this is news to you," Mary continues, "but take my word for it. I suspect you conceived during the last tryst you had with your then husband-to-be, probably a few days before the wedding. It will be a girl, if I'm not mistaken. So what I want is this… if I let you go, you will give birth and raise the child. But on her thirteenth birthday, I will come and claim her, and from that moment onwards she will be mine, and you will never see her again."  
Mary pauses, allowing Gemma a few seconds for all this to sink in.  
"So that's the offer, Gemma. Either you and your child can both die today, or you can live and have thirteen precious years with her. And now I'm unashamedly going to put extra pressure on you, by pointing out that child inside you is all that left of your late husband."  
Mary reaches forward and pulls the bag off Gemma's head. The newlywed & newly widowed girl's hair is an unruly, tangled mess, and a strip of thick black postal tape covers her mouth. Tears have streaked down her cheeks, and she looks at Mary with frightened eyes.  
"I'm only going to ask this once, understood?" Says Mary calmly.  
Gemma nods.  
"Do you accept my offer, together with all the explained terms and conditions?" Mary asks.  
Despite her fear, Gemma slowly and carefully nods again, not wanting the action to be misinterpreted. Mary smiles.  
"Excellent." She declares.  
The camera cuts to the outside of the van. The panel door on the side of the vehicle slides back. Mary and Gemma are both on their feet, the former helping the latter (who has the bag back over her head) out of the van.  
"Mind your head." Murmurs Mary, and Gemma ducks under the top of the opening. "We're going to step out now." Mary says, and the two of them move forward in unison, placing a foot on the warehouse floor.  
The Anointed One moves Gemma another pace away from the van.  
"One last thing, Gemma." Mary comments. "In a few moments, you'll forget everything that's happened since you were abducted at the wedding. You won't remember any of it, not even if the police place you under hypnosis. But the next time you see me, you'll recall everything. Especially the agreement we've just made. Sleep now."  
Gemma's head slumps forward slightly, and her entire body relaxes, but she remains standing upright. Mary waits a moment, then snaps her fingers.  
"Wakey wakey." She exclaims cheerfully.  
Gemma instantly straightens, her bagged head whipping about in alarm.  
"It's alright, Gemma. Stay calm." Mary says firmly. "We're lettin you go. All you have to do is stand here for a few minutes, then you can take the bag off your head and go for help. I also have something that belongs to you."  
The Anointed One reaches over into the van and pulls out a bin liner that clearly has something bundled inside. Mary shoves it into Gemma's taped hands.  
"Your wedding dress." Mary explains. "You may want to have it drycleaned, to get your husband's bloodstains out. Or you may not."  
She steps back into the van and closes the door. The vehicle moves off, leaving Gemma standing, looking vulnerable and alone, in the centre of the warehouse, clutching the bin liner.  
Cut to inside the van as it speeds along. Mary is again sitting on one of the benches. Facing her on the opposing bench is a man who wasn't there a few seconds earlier.  
"Oh, it's you." Mutters Mary, unfazed by his sudden appearance. "What do you want?"  
The man appears to be in his late twenties with shoulder-length blonde hair. He's wearing a light brown trenchcoat, black trousers, expensive black shoes, and an open-necked white shirt.  
"Heaven is displeased, Mary Warren." He announces. "You did not kill Ella Dee when an opportunity arose, and you delay killing Malachi. Instead, you waste time with that girl you've just released, and the boy Ella has taken as a lover. We expect answers."  
Mary responds by stretching out her long legs, placing one foot in the man's lap and then putting her other foot on top of the first, crossed at the ankle. The man sits up straight, surprised, slightly taken aback, and clearly uncomfortable.  
"Listen up, Gabe." Mary mutters firmly. "We both know the Malachi situation is irretrievable." The man goes to speak, but Mary stops him by grinding her heel of her boot into his groin, making him wince as she continues: "Don't insult me by pretending otherwise. It's what comes afterwards that I'm preparing for. The long game. If your boss came down off His cloud, He might be able to see what I see."  
"And that is?" Asks the man, with as much composure as he can manage.  
"Everyone laid out like pieces on a chess board, or actors assigned roles in a play." Mary tells him. "The Pawn. The Queen. The Killer. The Mother. The Fool. The Angel. And the Undying. By studying everything they've done so far, I've realised what roads they're taking, and where those roads lead. I can see every move they're going to make, every plot twist already written in advance."  
"And your role in this little drama?" Enquires the man.  
"I'm the Player, Gabe." Mary replies. "And right now I'm the only person on your team with a game plan. So a little bit more respect is due."  
To emphasise the point, she grinds her heel into his groin again.  
"You still haven't explained the girl. Or your dalliance with the boy." The man gasps.  
"Two children. Mine and Gemma's. Both of them will have former Medenham students as one or both of their parents." Mary comments. "Medenham, Gabe. A virtual hotbed of powerful magicks. Some of which hopefully lingers in those who have lived there, however briefly, and will be passed to their offspring."  
The man's eyes widen in realisation;  
"You're hoping that you and the girl will give birth to children capable of being Anointed Ones." He exclaims softly.  
"I'm raising an army, Gabe." Mary declares with a smile. "Heaven knows that we need one."  
"And Ella Dee?" Asks the man. "Why haven't you killed her?"  
"I am, Gabe." Counters Mary, still smiling. "I'm killing her by inches. A little piece at a time. And when she's sufficiently battered, bloodied and beaten… when I've broken her… then she can either return to the fold, or…"  
"Or?" Murmurs the man.  
"Or I will give you her head." Mary concludes.

Cut to a close-up of Ella's face. She has her eyes closed. Slowly, she stirs and begins to wake up, blinking and trying to take in her surroundings.  
"Ah, you're awake." Says a man's voice.  
The camera moves back. Ella is lying on her side across the back seat of a large car, her leather coat draped over her like a blanket. Through the windows we can see that the vehicle is moving through a non-crowded urban area. Pushing against the seat underneath, Ella raises herself slightly, tentatively touches the side of her head and winches slightly.  
"Anybody else would have suffered a fractured skull and possible brain damage." Comments the voice. "Even with the accelerated healing that Annointed Ones possess, you still had a worrying concussion. But I took care of it. Rubbed a little concoction of mine into your scalp. Any lingering pain will past soon."  
Ella moves into a sitting position and looks at the speaker, who's driving the car, has his eyes constantly on the road, and is the only other person in the vehicle. He's a handsome man, apparently in his early thirties, with incredibly smooth skin and shoulder length dark brown hair. He's wearing a dark gray poloneck sweater and matching jacket.  
"Perifax?" She murmurs. "What are you doing here?"  
"Received a phone call from Perie." Explains the man. "Asked if I could drive out to Hobb's End, patch you up and drop you off wherever you wanted. She doesn't know where you live, but thinks that it's probably somewhere south of the Thames. You'll have to start giving me directions in about an hour."  
"How do you know Perie?" Ella asks.  
"Us magical creatures tend to move in the same circles, though I'd never describe Perie and myself as being friends." Perifax declares. "And now that I've done this for her, she's obliged to do something for me in the future. Trust me, it's always useful to have someone as resourceful as Perie in your debt."  
Bundling up her leather coat and putting it on the seat alongside her, Ella puts a seatbelt on, then cautiously touches her head again.  
"Perifax," she murmurs, "that concoction you treated me with. It didn't happen to include your salvia, did it?"

Cut to the main living area of Malachi's penthouse apartment in the New Church's London headquarters. Malachi is sitting spralled on the minimalist couch, a broad, cocky smile on his face. His left arm is resting on the top of the couch, his right arm held in front of him, and he's dangling the Stone of Belial from it's chain, which he's holding between his right thumb and forefinger. The double doors of the apartment swing open unaided, and Jo walks in, followed by Corvide. The latter immediately sniffs the air, and – unnoticed by Jo and Malachi – heads unhurriedly towards the double doors leading to the bedroom.  
"You wanted to see me?" Asks Jo.  
Before Malachi gets the chance to answer, Jo notices the newly installed light display/sculpture hanging from the ceiling in the overhang. It's a mass of highly polished steel plates, mirrors, and exposed bright fluorescent tubes, all arranged in a sharp angular – but seemingly chaotic – fashion.  
"Oh, I see." Jo comments dryly. "Well, I hope you like it, Malachi. It cost enough."  
"No, I didn't ask you here to see that." Scoffs Malachi, getting off the couch and sauntering towards her. "But this."  
He dangles the Stone in front of her.  
"Oh, that bauble." Comments Jo. "What did you have to trade to obtain it from Ella?"  
"I blackmailed Thelma." Malachi boasts, clearly very pleased with himself. "Told her that if she didn't get it for me, I'd let that girlfriend of her's remain in Hell."  
"Hell. Really." Says Jo, smiling enigmatically.  
Malachi nods: "She couldn't give this to me fast enough. And now we've got it, we can just travel back in time and kill Ella anytime we like, when she's least expecting it. We can probably even use it to locate the original edition of that Grimlore book that you're having trouble finding."  
Jo has cupped the Stone in her palm and is studying it.  
"There appears to be an engraving on the Stone itself that I don't recall being there before." She murmurs with interest. "Several lines of words, so small I can't make them out. Fortunately, Corvide has exceptional eyesight, much better than either of us."  
Corvide is standing on the threshold to the bedroom, holding one of the doors open and peering inside. Upon hearing her name, she closes the door and turns round.  
"Corvide, could you read this inscription for us please?" Requests Jo.  
The personal assistant joins Jo and Malachi, takes the Stone, and holds it almost a foot and half away from her face.  
"This is beautiful work." She comments.  
"Never mind that, what does it say?" Snaps Malachi.  
Corvide reads the engraving aloud;  
"Hello Malachi. If you are reading this, it means the Stone of Belial is back in your possession. As I was aware this would always be a possibility, I have taken necessary precautions. It took nearly four years of searching, but I eventually found a incantation powerful enough to permanently remove all magicks from the Stone. What you are holding is now just a useless rock. Suggest you use it as a paperweight. Ella."  
She hands the Stone back to Malachi, the cocky smile having been wiped off his face. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, instinctly wanting to preserve his supposedly cool and confident self-image with a piece of verbal bravado, but he's been left literally speechless, unable to think of absolutely anything to say.  
"Well, if there's nothing else, we have other matters requiring our attention." Declares Jo dismissively, then she and Corvide leave, the double doors opening to let them out.  
Malachi stares at the Stone for a moment, then with a cry of anger and frustration he hurls it across the room. It strikes the wall opposite with a sound that's more like a loud bang than a thud, creating a sizable dent, then it drops to the floor. Malachi storms through the double doors to the bedroom – and stops in his tracks, rendered speechless for the second time in just over a minute. The room is awash with blood, sprayed up over most of the walls and either flowing in thick trickles across the floor or collecting in puddles. All four of the Malachettes are lying on the floor around the bed, the flimsy, barely-there underwear that is their normal attire torn and ripped to shreds, due to the fact that the girls themselves have all been repeatedly stabbed in either the chest and stomach or back. A couple of them have also had their throats slashed from ear to ear. On any exposed flesh that has not been subjected to puncture wounds, the words 'whore' or 'slut' have been carved. Kneeling in the centre of the bed - on silk sheets so soaked they resemble an ocean of blood - is Alex. She is wearing only a thong that was originally white but is now coloured red, due to her being covered from head to toe in the girls' blood. She is also holding two large matching carving knives, one in each hand. Upon seeing Malachi, she smiles and casually tosses both knives away, so they fall either side of the bed. Malachi finally finds his voice;  
"What did – why did you -" he manages to bluster, before Alex interrupts him.  
"I got tired of sharing my husband." She states simply, as though that was all the explanation required.  
She moves to the edge of the bed – the mattress squelches as she does so – steps onto the floor and walks towards him. Blood drips off her, splashing as it hits the puddles underneath, and also flows and trickles down her bare legs. Reaching a transfixed Malachi, Alex puts her arms around his neck, smearing and dripping blood over his shirt and skin, then moves in and kisses him passionately. He responds, the kiss lasting several seconds before they break away.  
"You always did know how to get my attention." Malachi smirks.  
"Take me." Gasps Alex in response.  
"Oh, I'll do that alright." Malachi gloats, placing one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees, scooping her up and carrying her back towards the blood soaked bed. "After the day I've had so far, don't expect any mercy. I'm going to make you scream til your throat bleeds."  
"I wouldn't want it any other way." Replies Alex dreamily.

Cut to Thelma walking along the street where the house containing Ella's basement flat is situated. She looks downcast and lost in thought. Reaching the front door of the house, she pauses and takes a couple of deep breathes - then immediately realises how redundant this is, as she doesn't breathe. She shakes herself, starting at her fingers and then letting it travel to the rest of her body. Squaring her shoulders, she raises her right hand and holds it a couple of inches in front of her forehead, the palm facing her.  
"Okay." Thelma murmurs to herself. "Game face."  
She moves her hand downwards. As it descends over her face and past her chin, it reveals that she's now wearing a smile. But a sadness remains in her eyes.

Cut to Thelma entering the main living area of Ella's flat a few seconds later. Ella is sitting in front of the computer, rewatching the footage of the ritual being performed by Malachi, Alex and the succubus called Shannon.  
"You're back." Remarks Thelma.  
"So are you." Replies Ella, not looking round.  
"I've seen Maya." Thelma says hesitatively.  
Ella stops the footage and swings round in the swivel chair so she's facing her friend.  
"Malachi?" The Anointed One asks.  
Thelma nods.  
"What did you give in exchange?" Ella enquires.  
"The Stone of Belial." Thelma tells her.  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Ella enquires, but Thelma responds with a slight smile and a shake of the head;  
"Maybe later. There are some things I need to tell you, and some things I want to discuss. But not right now." The ghost murmurs.  
"Whenever you're ready." Ella says, then she smiles;  
"So we finally palmed the Stone off. I'd love to see Malachi's face when he finds out. If he hasn't already." She remarks. "As it is, I'm too busy puzzling over what happened to me last night. Perie had the perfect opportunity to kill me, and she passed. She even arranged for a mutual acquaintance to tend to me and give me a lift back here."  
"Back here?" Exclaims Thelma. "So Perie knows where we live?"  
Ella shakes her head, then winces ever so slightly;  
"No." She murmurs. "Perifax – he's the one who drove me – he promised not to tell anyone this address, and he always keeps his word."  
"Yeah, but supposing Perie or Malachi force it out of him?" Thelma opines.  
Ella grins: "They won't even try. You can't threaten a dragon."  
Thelma stares at her for a couple of seconds.  
"A dragon?" She declares. "You were driven here by a dragon? Scales, has wings, fiery breath, eats virgins?"  
"I've never seen one on their natural form." Explains Ella. "They all went underground or into hiding several centuries before I was born. But a few of them are still around. Perifax chooses to conceal himself in plain sight. They're creatures of powerful magick, Thelma. Changing their appearance, size and mass is child's play to them."  
Thelma muses over this for a moment.  
"I'm going to make a sandwich." She announces. "Want one?"  
"Please." Says Ella, then she swivels back to the computer.  
"So why did you think Perie has turned over a new leaf?" Asks Thelma as she busies herself in the kitchen area.  
"I honestly have no idea." Ella replies, restarting the footage of the ritual. "And the thought of her acting in my best interests is more worrying than her trying to kill me. But right now I'm more concerned about what her and her goons had unearthed."  
"Do tell." Requests Thelma, who's poking about in the fridge.  
"A Necronomicon." Ella reports. "A book of the most unearthly magicks. The original is supposed to have been written several centuries ago by an insane Arab magician. A few duplicates were made, copied by hand from the original. These duplicates changed hands numerous times and were taken all across the world, during which time handwritten copies were made from the copies, and further copies made from those copies, and so forth. The rumours vary, but in the early twentieth century it was claimed nearly a hundred copies of the Necronomicon were in existance, with eleventh and twelfth generation examples being reported. The Nazis are supposed to have tracked down over twenty copies during the Thirties. The problem was that everything a duplicate was made, the amount of magical power it contained lessened. An eighth generation copy would contain a fraction of the power of a fifth generation copy, for example. And so various individuals have always sought out the original Necronomicon, the source of all the energy and the lodestone of unearthly magic. It's sort of like the Holy Grail of the dark arts."  
Thelma brings over a couple of plates with a cold sausage & brown sauce sandwich on each, hands one to Ella, then sits down on the sofa and starts tucking into her own. Ella draws her attention to the footage playing on the computer.  
"Remember how when we first saw this, I noticed the ritual had been altered? Extra words and passages added? We never did clarify actually what the changes were and what purpose they served. Well, seeing that Necronomicon last night jogged my memory. That's what the ritual's been redesigned to locate."  
"You mean they're not looking for the Grand Grimlore after all?" Mumbles Thelma with her mouth full.  
"It's still a ritual to find the segments of the Grimlore," Ella comments "but with these amendments it serves a dual purpose. It searches for copies of the Necronomicon as well."  
"So what would Malachi want with editions of this Necronomie-thingy anyway?" Chomps Thelma.  
"That's what I don't understand." Muses Ella. "For lack of a better description, the Necronomicon is said to be the Bible of the Old Ones."  
"Old Ones?" Queries Thelma between mouthfuls.  
"Also refered to as the Elder Gods and the Many-Angled Ones. They possess powers beyond comprehension." Ella explains, then she pauses before continuing: "The Creation, like any manufacturing process, had a waste product. That's what the Old Ones are, Thelma. When God created the universe, He inadvertedly created them as well. They're the unforeseen side effect of Creation. The effluent of existance. Over thousands of millennium, they developed sentience and then intelligence. They've spent eons of time staring at the Universe from the other side of reality, wanting in, but unable to join the party. It's said that only the original Necronomicon can be used to contact them, or perhaps even bring them across to this realm. The forces of both Heaven and Hell have always ignored them. They're more trouble that they're worth."  
Wearing just a pair of boxers shorts and scratching his head sleepily, Leon wanders in from his and Ella's bedroom.  
"Morning." He yawns.  
"Blimey, what have you been up to? You look terrible." Comments Thelma, tactful as ever.  
"Can't understand it." Mumbles Leon. "I've slept like a log, but I feel knackered. It's almost as though I've gone twelve rounds with someone."

Cut to the bedroom of Jo's apartment in the New Church's London headquarters. Perie is lying on her back, fully clothed, on Jo's four poster bed, adopting a crucifix pose with her arms laid out at right angles to her body. The unreadable smile is present, as always. Jo enters, with Corvide following.  
"Did any incubi or succubus see you?" Jo asks the faerie.  
Wordlessly raises herself on her elbows, Perie shakes her head, then reaches over the side of the bed and produces the artist's bag, which she passes to Jo. The ex-teacher unzips the bag and slowly pulls the Necronomicon from within. She glances at Perie;  
"Excellent work." She tells the faerie.  
Jo walks over to a painting on the wall. As she approaches, the image on the painting seems to melt, flow, and shift, until the painting itself transforms into a wall safe – only it lacks any visible handle, combination lock or keypad. Jo simply glances at the safe and the sound of tumblers moving can faintly be heard, then the safe door swings open. Inside, the rolled parchments of the Grand Grimlore are gathered on a shelf. Jo places the Necronomicon on the bottom shelf underneath.  
"The most exclusive book collection in history." Murmurs Jo. "We now have the means to destroy the world… or create it anew."  
She turns to face Perie and Corvide. Behind her, the safe door swings shut and can be heard locking.  
"There's someone I want both of you to meet." Jo announces.

Cut to a minute or so later, with Jo, Corvide and Perie in one of the lifts in the New Church's London headquarters. Jo pushes the button for the basement. The lift descends, and upon reaching the bottom, it halts and the doors open. Motioning for Perie and Corvide to remain where they are, Jo produces a tiny key, pushes it into an opening built into the bottom of the lift's button panel, and turns it. The doors close and the lift descends yet further. After a few seconds it stops and the doors open. Jo walks out, Corvide and Perie following, down a wide, dimly lit corridor. At the end is a massive vault door that would not disgrace a major bank, with a simple, tall metal cupboard to one side. Opening the cupboard, Jo pulls out two thick padded coats with hoods, and two pairs of matching gloves, and hands them to Perie and Corvide.  
"Put these on." She instructs them. "Should you need to remove the gloves, take care not to touch anything."  
"Aren't you wearing any?" Asks Corvide, as she and the faerie struggle into the bulky garments.  
"I don't need them." Jo replies with a shake of her head.  
The ex-teacher turns to the vault door, that towers over her, dwarfing her. On the wall next to the door is a chunky metal keypad. Jo glances at it, and several of the square numbered buttons seemingly depress themselves in a set sequence. There the rumble of massive tumblers moving, and the door slowly, ponderously, starts to swing open with a metallic groan. Icy mist pours out of the opening at the bottom and side of the door. As it opens fully, Jo steps through into a cloud of mist, with Corvide and Perie at her heels. They walk into a large room, the centrepiece of which is a smooth, metal, coffin-like cylinder, lying flat and raised up on a platform. Metal pipes & tubing run between the casket and over a dozen cylindrical tanks standing upright along the walls on either side. Otherwise the room is bare. Every surface is coated in either thin ice or a thick covering of frost.  
"A cryogenic chamber." Murmurs Corvide, and Jo nods.  
"Allow me to introduce our secret weapon." Declares the ex-teacher, gesturing towards the horizonal cylinder: "This is our fail safe. Our guarantee against failure."  
"A frozen, cryogenically perversed corpse?" An intrigued Corvide asks.  
There is a display panel and a window on top of the casket, both covered in thick frost. With an enigmatic smile, Jo waves her hand over the panel, and the frost immediately melts and clears. The display is showing a countdown in red letters: 047:58:01. 047:58:00. 047:57:59.  
"Current wisdom says you have to bring the subject back to normal temperature over a period of at least 200 hours, to minimalise potential cell damage." Jo explains. "As you can see, I activated the process several days ago, once we located the final scroll of the Grimlore. Our deceased friend here will be thawed out in just under two days time. Then all our plans will come to fruition. Those who oppose us will be dead. And it will finally all be over."

Final scene: The interior of a lavishly but tastefully furnished mansion in the midst of considerably large grounds in the country. We're following a young woman as she walks down a corridor. We can only see her from behind: she's supermodel slim and is wearing a skin tight black leather catsuit and matching suede high-heeled boots. Her long blonde hair is tied in a ponytail that hangs down her back. One side of the corridor is flanked with large picture windows, and through them we can see a massive courtyard, in the middle of which a helicopter sits resting on three retractable wheels. As the woman continues walking, we cut to a black and white flashback;  
Graham Finch (from Episodes #4 and #5) emerges out of a doorway into the lower levels of a multi-story car park. He is flustered and out of breath, and glances about quickly. A female voice calls out from the shadows, causing him to look in that direction in alarm.  
"Mr. Finch." Declares the voice, which has a faint but distinctive trace of either a German or Austrian accent. "Do you have it?"  
The speaker steps out into the light. The scene is shot so that the camera is behind her , so we cannot see her face. She is slim, wearing a red leather trenchcoat tied around the waist, with her long blonde hair in a ponytail hanging down her back. Upon seeing the woman, Finch visibly relaxes somewhat.  
"Yes." He says, scrambling in one of his pockets and producing a computer disc. "It's –"  
A shot rings out, and Finch slowly collapses to the ground with a look of surprise frozen on his face. Placing a revolver back into one of the deep pockets of her coat, the woman (still filmed from behind) walks over to where Finch is lying, and takes the disc from his hand. Behind her a large black car emerges from the shadows, engine purring. She gets into the car and it pulls away as Thelma bursts out of the doorway that Finch came through.  
The flashback ends, and we return to the mansion (colour). Reaching the end of the corridor, the blonde woman opens a grand, tall and engraved wooden door and walks into a large gymnasium. In the centre of the room two people are having a fencing match. Both wearing fencing masks and lightly padded protective suits, but it's clear that one of them – shorter and more slender than the other – is female. The blond woman remains where she is, watching the match, which is nearing it's end. The female fencer wins with considerable ease. After both competitors have saluted each other, the female hands her foil to her opponent, and – spotting the blonde – starts to walk over to her. The camera pans round, allowing us to see the blonde woman's face for the first time. It's Janice, the former school canteen worker at Medenham. Unable to restrain her impressive breasts, the zip at the front of her catsuit has slid downwards, revealing a more-than-generous cleavage.  
"What news, Kessel?" The fencer enquires through her mask as she approaches.  
"Madam, we've triple-checked the information that Finch stole from the New Church's database." Reports Kessel/Janice with a faint Germanic accent. "Their identities, family histories, careers and current locations - it all checks out. Once you give the command, within twelve hours we will have people in position, ready to extract the remaining members of the extended McBain bloodline."  
Halting in front of Kessel, the fencer lifts off her mask, revealing dark blonde wavy hair pulled taut into a ponytail. It's Rachel McBain, looking as though she's barely in her early thirties.  
"My bloodline." She declares, correcting her employee.


	10. The Last McBain

**Episode #10: The Last McBain.**

Previously on Hex: a brief clip from the First Season, Episode #1 - Cassie and David Tyrell discussing Rachel McBain's portrait.  
A brief clip from the First Season, Episode #4 - Cassie being electrocuted.  
A brief clip from the Third Season, Episode #4 - Corvide gazing at Malachi as he walks away from her and commenting "He's incomplete. Part of him is missing." Jo replying "I know." Corvide asking "Is he aware?" Jo declaring "No."  
Brief clips from the Third Season, Episode #9 - Thelma asking Peggy "have you ever researched the history of the Medenham witches?"; Thelma & Peggy standing in the street watching Midge. Thelma asks "You're sure she has the gift?"; Kessel saying "Within twelve hours we will have people in position, ready to extract the remaining members of the extended McBain bloodline. Rachel McBain removing her fencing mask and declaring "My bloodline."

The camera pans across the darkened kitchen space in Ella's flat, and we see a digital clock that reads 03:11. We continue into the main living area, and as we pan over the desk on which the computer monitors are crowded, we see a newspaper also lying there. The front page has a wedding photo of Gemma, smiling in her bridal dress, and is accompanied by the headline MISSING HEIRESS FOUND: REMEMBERS NOTHING. The camera continues around the living area, and we eventually alight upon Thelma, who is crouched down and tugging a small metal strong box out from behind the battered sofa. She's wearing her dark red clubbing outfit: skin-tight, hipster trousers and midriff-revealing sleeveless top, with white trainers. Placing the strong box flat on the floor, Thelma lifts over her head a thin silver chain that she was wearing, and we see that a tiny key hangs from it. Inserting the key into the strong box's lock, she turns it, then lifts the box's lid. Inside are two handguns, crammed together with several boxes of bullets. A light comes on, and Thelma looks round to see Ella standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wearing just a black t-shirt that protects her modesty by about an inch. Ella yawns, blinks, and runs a hand through her bedhair.  
"Couldn't sleep?" Asks Thelma.  
Ella shakes her head 'no' while walking past Thelma and throwing herself down onto the sofa, where she lays on her back, stretching.  
"I'll go on line in a few minutes." Ella murmurs. "Apparently there's some websites about sightings of me in the Twenties that I keep meaning to check out."  
"There are websites about you?" Queries Thelma, looking up.  
"Sort of." Mumbles Ella, yawning again. "I spent some time in New York in the late 1920s, tracking down the last descendents of one of the Medenham coven. They'd gotten involved in organised crime – nothing major, but some of them were working as legmen or street-level enforcers for one of the ruling Mob families. So in order to get them, I had to take on their employers as well."  
Ella props herself up on her elbows and looks at Thelma as she continues talking;  
"Anyway, this was just over a decade after Mary had died" the Anointed One frowns ruefully "- or so I thought. And after working as a team and having her watch my back for over a century, I was still getting used to working solo again. I got sloppy, made some mistakes, and allowed myself to be seen a few times while leaving various premises owned by the Mob, either dashing down alleyways or escaping over the rooftops. I was even snapped by press photographers on a couple of occasions. Luckily no-one ever got a really good look at me, and the photos were all long distance, or blurry and out of focus. But word spread, and before I knew it I'd become urban folklore: loose-lipped lowlifes in seedy bars were talking about this shadowy female vigilante who was hounding the Mob."  
"A legend in your own lifetime." Quips Thelma.  
"Strangely, yes." Murmurs Ella with a quiet smile. "The pulp magazines had started to become popular, featuring characters such as Doc Carnage, The Apparition, The Arachnid, and Mr. Vengeance. And so the press leapt on this trend and dubbed me 'the Ghost Girl.' A couple of the newspapers even printed artists' impressions of me. They portrayed me wearing a cloak and a skimpy outfit with my breasts falling out."  
"I'd like to see those pictures, if you can find the websites." Grins Thelma.  
"I bet you would." Replies Ella.  
"So what happened next?" The ghost asks, sitting crosslegged on the floor by the end of the sofa.  
"I eliminated the last of the descendents, but my actions had weakened their employers, and damaged their operations. Other competing Mob families moved in to take over their territory. I left New York just as the shooting started. Speaking of which," Ella murmurs, eyeing the handguns now resting in Thelma's lap, "you going out to indulge in some target practise again?"  
"Yep. Going to vent my frustration on some bottles and cans." The ghost declares.  
"Make sure you take the silencers this time." Cautions Ella. "We don't want the neighbours calling out the armed response unit again."  
Thelma nods in acknowledgement, then asks;  
"Any update on when we're expecting the amended ammo?"  
"Monty sent an e-mail last night." Ella replies. "He said we can pick it up later today."  
"He's got a bit of a crush on you, hasn't he?" Thelma grins slyly.  
"Monty?" Ella murmurs, acting mock-innocent and demure. "We maybe had a brief fling about twenty years ago, back when he was a full-time gunsmith. He's sweet."  
"Another of your multitude of lovers?" Exclaims Thelma. "Exactly how many notches are there on your bedpost?"  
"A lady doesn't tell." Declares Ella, still in exaggerated bashful mode, closing her eyes then stretching.  
"That wouldn't be code for 'I lost count after the first hundred' would it?" Thelma enquires with a raised eyebrow.  
"I've been around for almost four and a half centuries, Thelma." Ella remarks dryly, with an amused smile. "Use your imagination."  
Thelma laughs as she gets up and heads over to the kitchen area. Holding a revolver in each hand, she tucks one of the guns into her armpit, freeing a hand which she uses to open one of the floor level cupboards, pulling out a straining plastic bag that's filled almost to bursting point with tin cans and glass bottles. Retrieving the gun from her armpit, she pads over to the door out of the flat, a revolver once again in each hand, the extremely stretched handles of the bag gripped firmly by one finger. She stops mid-step and looks over at Ella, who's still lying on the sofa.  
"Hey, 'Ghost Girl.' If you're not using the name anymore, can I have it? It would be more appropriate." Thelma asks.  
"Consider it yours." Declares Ella, her eyes closed.  
"See you in an hour or so." Thelma declares.  
Ella hums an acknowledgement. We hear the door open then close, accompanied by the sound of glass chinking. The Anointed One opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling, the expression on her face is unreadable. Leon emerges from the bedroom wearing a pair of boxer shorts.  
"I thought I heard Thelma's voice." He mumbles.  
"She's gone out. Target practice again." Ella tells him, still looking at the ceiling.  
"How is she?" Leon asks.  
"Still hurting, but hiding it well enough that anyone but you and me wouldn't know." Ella reports sadly.  
She swings her legs round and places her feet on the floor. Getting up and walking over to Leon, she places her arms round him and presses the right side of her face against his chest.  
"Hold me." She whispers.  
Leon puts his arms around her and rests his chin on her head. The lovers stand silently for several seconds, drawing comfort from each other. No words are necessary.  
"Leon…what have I done?" Ella murmurs.

Cut to Malachi's bedroom in his penthouse apartment in the New Church's London headquarters. A new carpet has been laid, a deep rich black, matching the silk sheets on the bed, under which Malachi stirs and then awakens. He blinks a couple of times and then glances across at Alex, asleep and curled up next to him, a contented smile on her face. Sliding out of the sheets, he pads across the room wearing only a pair of black silk boxer shorts, and enters the connected bathroom. The camera pans back to Alex, who stirs and shifts about, but doesn't wake up. We hear a toilet flush.  
The camera cuts to inside the bathroom, as Malachi casually washes his hands and gives them a quick rub with a towel. Switching off the light, he's about to go back into the bedroom when he notices a glow under the bathroom's other door, the one leading to the apartment's main living room. Inquisitively, he walks over, carefully opens the door and steps through.  
The living room is dimly lit by a dozen large candles placed around on the floor, dividing the room into flickering wavers of orange light and pools of shadow. As Malachi looks about, his eyes are drawn to the two candles furthest from him, placed at either end of the overhang. Standing there in the centre of the glass structure is Jo, proudly naked, the light from the candles dancing over her flawless skin and caressing her body.  
"Ever since you got back from Rome, you haven't shown me how much you love me." She remarks, fixing him with a stare.  
Smirking, he starts to walks across the length of the room towards her.  
"Alex has been especially possessive of late." He murmurs. "You can't blame me for giving her some extra attention. I mean, look at what she did to my other bedmates."  
"Yet another mess to be cleared up." Responses Jo coolly. "Although Corvide won't be going hungry for a while. But now you have to make amends for neglecting me."  
Malachi half-glances over his shoulder.  
"She's asleep in the bedroom." He cautions. "Supposing she wakes up and catches us?"  
"Has that ever stopped us before?" Jo counters. "Besides, the risk… the danger… just adds to the intensity. Enough excuses Malachi. Time for you to show me how much you've missed me."  
Malachi is now standing just a few feet from her, where the glass floor of the overhang meets the rest of the building. Grinning, he pulls his boxers down to his feet and steps out of them. Jo gazes down and smiles.  
"That much." She purrs in anticipation, then she reaches out and runs her forefinger under Malachi's chin.  
"My beautiful boy." Jo murmurs softly. "Come to Mummy."  
Malachi steps forward and grabs her, slamming her back against the cold glass of the overhang wall, then kisses her, passionately, eagerly. Jo responds with a hunger that matches and even surpasses his. After several seconds, she reaches up wth one hand, grabs his hair and yanks his head back, away from hers. Surrogate mother and son stare at each other, both breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together.  
"Do you love me?" Jo demands, inbetween gasps, still firmly holding his head back.  
"Of course." He replies without hesitation. "You raised me. Nurtured me. You're been a better parent than my father ever was."  
"And my other attributes?" She asks, her eyes never wavering from his.  
"You're the best lover I've ever had." Malachi states simply. "No-one else comes close. Alex may legally be my wife, but it's you I'm married to, in every sense of the word. You've been my protector and teacher since birth. I can't imagine my world without you."  
Jo gazes at him silently, weighing up his words.  
"My son." She declares, then she pushes his head forward, pressing his mouth against hers.  
Opening titles.

Cut to the bench by the pond in the nearby park. A lamp-post which stands ten feet to the right of the bench illuminates the area around it. The bench's wooden backrest is about four inches wide and slightly slanting at the top. Thelma is stood behind it, taking tins and bottle out of the plastic bag and lining them up along the length of the backrest, barely an inch between each one. Have emptied the bag, she stuffs it into a ball and drops it into the rubbish bin next to the bench, then she reaches up with both hands and pulls the neckband of her top forward. The ghost gazes down into her top.  
"Hello boys." She remarks, then she puts one hand up under her top and rummages round for a moment, eventually withdrawing it to reveal that she's holding two slim cylindrical silencers, made of polished black metal and held together by a rubber band wrapped round them both several times.  
Untwisting the rubber band, Thelma picks up one of the revolvers from where she'd placed them on the bench seat and starts to screw the silencer onto the barrel. It's an easy, assured activity. She's clearly done this several times before.  
As Thelma picks up the second handgun, we see a brief flashback to the events of Episode #5 – Ella taking cover behind the pillar in the department store, under fire from Perie, and yelling in exasperation to Thelma: "JUST THROW ME THE GUN!" Thelma reaching down, grabbing the revolver and tossing it clumsily to Ella.  
Then we see a subsequent event from Episode #5 - Ella, Thelma and Perie in the underground car park, standing round Graham Finch's body, with the Anointed One and the faerie pointing guns at each other.  
"I seem to recall you running out of bullets." Says Perie.  
"I did." Confirms Ella, "But this is the gun belonging to the other man you killed."  
Finally we see Ella and Thelma walking out of the parking structure into the daylight. Sirens can be heard getting closer, and the two of them duck down an alleyway, past some commercial wheelie bins. Ella stuffs the two revolvers into the internal pockets of her long leather overcoat.  
"What are going to do with those?" Asks Thelma, nodding in the direction of the coat.  
"We might as well keep them." Replies Ella. "Trust me, weapons have a tendency to come in useful."  
We cut back to the present. Thelma is walking away from the back of the bench, in the opposite direction to the pond and into the darkness, a revolver in each hand. Having walked about twenty metres, she turns and faces the rear of the bench, the bottles and cans glinting in the light cast by the lamp-post. She raises the guns and fires a series of rapid shots from both weapons simultaneously, shooting at the targets at the furthest ends of the bench and working her way towards the centre, the guns producing sharp, subdued coughing sounds. Bottles shatter or explode, while the cans and tins go spinning off into the dark when hit. Twice Thelma misses a target, whereupon she ceases firing for a moment, takes aim, fires a single shot, and having hit the errant item, continues rapid fire until the final targets at the centre of the backrest have been struck. The ghost surveys her handiwork.  
"It's true what they say. Practise does make perfect." She muses. "Not quite there yet though."  
She walks back to the bench, places the revolvers on the seat, starts picking up the holed cans and bottle pieces and tosses them into the rubbish bin. Coming across one particular jagged shard of glass, Thelma pauses, then presses it into her palm, closing her hand around it and cletching her fist as hard as she can. As Thelma stares at her hand, we hear Maya in voiceover;  
"Where I'm going, you won't be following…. I saw myself in Heaven, Thelma. You weren't there…. It's not what I want. I love you…"  
After several seconds, the ghost opens her hand. The shard lies in her palm, the skin on which is completely unmarked.  
"No blood, no pain." She remarks simply. "I never thought I'd be envious of self-harmers."

Cut to the main living room in Malachi's penthouse apartment. Still unclothed, Jo is silently making her way around the room, putting out the candles with her thumb and forefinger. As a result, the room is dimly lit, the lights from neighbouring buildings, visible through the glass walls and floor of the overhang, provide what little illumination there is. Malachi is lying on his back in the overhang, arms folded behind his head, gazing at the metal sculpture/light-fitting that hangs from the structure's ceiling, directly above him.  
"You know, sometimes I think it's a shame this all has to end." He murmurs conversationally. "This world has got a lot going for it."  
"Such as?" Queries Jo, not pausing in her task.  
"You and me, for a start." Malachi offers. "Moments like this. Though I suppose after the End of Days happens, and I become one of the rulers of Hell, I can have you as my Queen."  
"To make me your Queen implies that you expect to be King, and I don't think Lucifier would approve of that." Cautions Jo. "There's room for only one absolute ruler in Hell."  
Still lying flat, Malachi moves his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug;  
"Then I'll settle for being a Prince, and you will be my Princess." He declares.  
Having extinguished the last of the candles, Jo walks over to Malachi, kneels down and kisses him on the chest and then the lips.  
"I'm touched." She whispers. "Don't forget to go back to bed before your wife wakes up."  
The ex-teacher straightens, then walks across to the apartment's door, opening and closing it softly as she steps through. Malachi remains lying in the overhang for several seconds , then gets to his feet and pads over to the connecting bathroom between the living room and the bedroom. Walking through the darkened bathroom, he pauses in front of the large mirror wall behind the sink.  
"Better check for marks and scratches." He muses to himself.  
He switches the light on – and stares at his reflection in shock: there are now deep lines and wrinkles running across his forehead and around his mouth, and crows' feet at the side of his eyes,. His thick, black hair has thinned dramatically and is liberally run through with streaks of grey, and noticeable bags have developed under his eyes. It's as though he's aged thirty years or more in the space of a few hours.

Cut to the corridor outside Malachi's penthouse apartment. Jo is getting into a black silk dressing gown being held for her by Corvide, who's dressed in an identical garment. Malachi's sharp, shrill cry of panic and alarm can be heard coming from within the apartment. Jo and Corvide calmly exchange a knowing look.

Cut to Ella's basement flat as Thelma re-enters, casually holding a revolver in each hand. The room is a mass of activity: Leon is sitting on the sofa, wearing faded blue jeans and white trainers, and doing up the laces on the latter. Then he hastily tugs an extremely worn khaki t-shirt over his head, before leaning forward and tying the back of Ella's corset while she sits in front of the computer, calmly but hurriedly scanning the screens, quickly jotting down details on a notepad with a ballpoint. Thelma takes all this in with a look of bemusement.  
"What's going on?" The ghost asks.  
"You know how we set up the computer to scan the internet and all the emergency services' frequencies for certain names and key words?" Leon tells her, still struggling with Ella's corset.  
"Yeah." Thelma confirms.  
"Well, the brown shuff has well and truly hit the fan." Leon reports. "In the last hour, four of the five McBain descendants who Peggy located for us have been reported as being abducted, all in full view of eyewitnesses. Snatched off the street, in some cases as soon as they stepped out of their front doors. Someone means business and they don't care who knows about it."  
"On the contrary, they've made certain that all interested parties do know." Interjects Ella, nodding towards the screens in front of her. "This is free advertising."  
"You said four out of five." Thelma says. "Midge?"  
"Isn't answering her mobile, or landline." Ella replies grimly. "It's not been reported yet, but whoever's doing this, they've probably snatched her too."

Cut to the bedroom of Malachi's penthouse in the New Church's London headquarters. Wearing his black silk boxer shorts and with an angry, panicked look on his face, Malachi is sitting on the end of the bed. Alex is sat next to him, a bed sheet wrapped round herself. Firmly clutching Malachi's hand, she keeps glancing anxiously at her husband, her mouth set in a taut line, bewildered but trying to be strong and calm for him. Jo, her hands in the pockets of the silk dressing gown she's still wearing, is stood before the couple and seems to be remarkably calm.  
"_What's happening to me?_" Yells Malachi, a shrill edge in his voice.  
"I realise this is distressing, but try to stay calm." Jo tells him, sounding reassuringly like the tutor she once was. "This is not entirely unexpected, and isn't as serious as it seems."  
"Not serious?!" Hisses Malachi. "Look at me. I've aged several decades overnight! What caused this? How do I become young again?"  
Before Jo can answer, Alex seizes on the ex-teacher's last remark;  
"Wait – you said this wasn't unexpected." The succubus says to Jo. "You mean you _knew_ this was going to happen?"  
Jo pauses, as though judging how best to explain what she's going to say next.  
"You're incomplete, Malachi." She announces. "Somehow, part of your lifeforce was siphoned away while you were either an infant, or still in your mother's womb. We don't know precisely when this happened, or more importantly how. But your accelerated growth after conception and birth placed your remaining, depleted lifeforce under extra strain. In simple terms, it's been working overtime to keep you in peak physical condition, pushing past it's maximum capacity to compensate for the part of you that is missing. But now it appears to be running out."  
"And you knew about this?" Queries Malachi in anger and disbelief.  
Jo calmly nods.  
"Why didn't you do something about it?" He yells. "Try to find where this missing part of me has gone?"  
"It wasn't considered important." Jo states simply.  
"_Not important?!_" Malachi rages, jumping to his feet and taking a step towards her –  
Jo's eyes flash red, and her surrogate son suddenly finds himself flying backwards to land on the bed. He angrily tries to get straight back up again, but can't move. Jo coolly glances across at Alex, but the succubus just cowers slightly, nervously holding the sheet around herself, and clearly has no desire to cause any trouble. Hands still in pockets, Jo unhurriedly walks around to the side of the bed and looks down at Malachi.  
"It was believed that the End of Days would occur before any adverse effect like this would happen to you." The ex-teacher explains. "Therefore, it was a moot point. Never considered to be a legitimate cause for concern. However, despite my best efforts to keep you in line, your wiltful nature and indulgent need for self-gratification has led to numerous delays. The End of Days has fallen behind schedule. And crows that you didn't know existed have now come home to roost."  
Jo lifts a hand out of a gown pocket and reaches down, gently caressing Malachi's greying hair.  
"If you'd just listened to me, it would all be over now, and this could have all been avoided." She chides him gently. "Now do you see? Mother knows best."  
She straightens, all business again;  
"Obviously, you can't make any more public appearances." Jo announces. "We'll cancel as many as we can, and those that we can't, Alex will attend on your behalf."  
"I'm staying here." Alex declares firmly, reaching out and taking hold of her husband's hand. "With my man."  
"You'll do as you're told." Jo says, affording the succubus the briefest of glances before gazing down at Malachi again. "Blink if you've calmed down." She tells him.  
Malachi blinks, and promptly finds that he can move again. He hesitatively sits up. Jo bends down and kisses him on the forehead.  
"The End of Days will happen soon enough." She whispers in his ear. "And then none of this will matter. I'm to be your Princess, remember?"  
Straightening, Jo turns and walks from the room. Alex waits until the door has closed behind her, then turns and looks at her husband;  
"She's hiding something. She knows more than she's letting on." The succubus declares.  
Malachi glances at his wife, then gazes at the door through which Jo has just left. Hesitatively, he nods.  
"Look into it." He murmurs.  
The camera cuts to the main living room of Malachi's apartment. Corvide – now wearing the short-skirted black business suit that is her usual attire – stands with her right side facing the door leading to the bedroom. Jo is stood a few feet away, hands still in the pockets of her silk dressing gown.  
"Well?" Jo asks.  
Turning to face her mistress, Corvide smiles and nods.  
"Excellent." Jo states softly, with a quiet smile.  
The two women walk towards the double doors that lead out of Malachi's apartment, which swing open as they approach and close behind them after they've passed through. The camera follows Jo and Corvide they head down the corridor, talking as they go;  
"We've received an anonymous e-mail, apparently from the same individuals who stole information from our database, then offered to sell it back to us." Reports Corvide. "They claim to have all the remaining female descendents of the extended McBain bloodline. They're willing to hand them over to us."  
"I was wondering when Rachel would make her move." Smiles Jo. "What does she want in exchange?"  
"The e-mail doesn't say." Replies Corvide. "It merely states they want to arrange a meeting to discuss terms."  
"You've told them we're not interested?" Asks Jo, and Corvide nods;  
"I sent back a reply immediately, informing them that the New Church has no interest in their offer, and we will ignore any further attempts they make to contact us." She declares. "What do you think they will do?"  
"Rachel will switch to the only Plan B available to her." Jo remarks, as she and Corvide take a left and continue down another corridor. "She'll contact Malachi direct and offer the girls to him."  
They pause, having reached the door to Jo's quarters.  
"The timing couldn't be better." Jo comments. "We've entered the final phase, and Rachel's manoeuvring will keep Malachi distracted and out of the way. It couldn't have worked out this well if we'd planned it. Go to your office, access your password-protected files, and then leave your computer on. I've given Alex enough reasons to be suspicious. She'll start snooping, and the information on the system about Amber Chase will give Malachi an extra incentive to accept Rachel's offer."  
Corvide nods, and walks briskly off down the corridor. Jo enters her quarters and makes her way to the bedroom, where she stands and gazes round at the blackened oak furniture: the wardrobes, cabinets, intricately carved four-poster bed, dressing table, and free-standing full length mirror.  
"I know you're here, Roxanne." She announces. "You might as well come out. There's no point in hiding."  
Several seconds pass, then Roxy steps out from behind the full length mirror, a slightly guilty but wary look on her face.  
"How did you –" The ghost begins, but Jo raises a hand, shushing her.  
"You're always watching and listening, Roxy." The ex-teacher declares, the tone in her voice making it clear that she's stating a fact, as opposed to making an accusation. "You have been for the last few months, ever since – I suspect – Thelma and Ella broke out that girl who Malachi took a fancy to."  
We suddenly cut to a flashback to a previously unseen moment during Episode #1: wearing her cheerleader outfit, Thelma is walking quickly but cautiously through the corridors of the New Church's London headquarters. Rounding a corner, she comes to a stunned halt at the sight of Roxy standing in the centre of the corridor ahead. Roxy looks almost as surprised to see her.  
We cut back to the present, in Jo's bedroom;  
"I think that's when you met one or both of them, and agreed to become their spy." Jo tells Roxy, whereupon the ghost goes to speak, but the ex-teacher doesn't give her the chance: "Please don't insult either your intelligence or mine by attempting to deny it. It was shortly after that incident that it became clear Ella was receiving inside information. The only other individual in a position to leak it was Alex, and she's too pathetically loyal to Malachi. Besides which, one of his ghastly jewel-encrusted mobile phones was mislaid a few months ago. He's got so many that he didn't miss it, but the New Church pays all his phone bills, and I noticed that calls were still being made on it."  
A look of alarm flashes across Roxy's face, but Jo instantly raises a reassuring hand.  
"Don't worry, I didn't have the number traced. I know you won't understand, but I have my reasons for wanting to keep Ella in the game. Now, about this phone, would you be so kind…?"  
Looking slightly deflated, Roxy reaches into her pocket and produces a chrome-covered mobile, decorated with several tiny diamonds. Very bling, very tacky, very Malachi.  
"That's the one." Jo observes. "You might as well keep it now. Consider it payment, for what I'm about to ask you to do."  
"What?!" Roxy asks in surprise.  
In response, Jo sits down on the end of the bed, crosses her legs, regards Roxy with a slightly amused look… and smiles.

Cut to the main living area in Ella's flat. Leon and Ella are now both fully dressed. The Anointed One still has the chair in front of the computer, Leon is crouched – feet on the floor, knees bent - alongside her. Thelma stands behind them, looking at the screens over their heads. Suddenly the ghost's eyes widen in recognition and she jabs a pointing hand at one of the monitors;  
"Wait a minute! I know her! It's the Goon!" She declares hurriedly.  
Ella looks at the image Thelma is indicating.  
"Amber Chase." The Anointed One reports. "One of the descendents of the diluted McBain bloodline, reported as being abducted. What was it you just called her? The Goon?"  
"She was a student at Medenham!" Thelma gushes.  
"I don't remember her." Muses Leon with a frown, gazing at the girl's image on the screen.  
"You wouldn't. She was only there for two terms. She didn't hang out with your crowd. Didn't hang out with anyone really. She was one of those quiet kids who keep to themselves, though I think I saw her talking to Felix a couple of times. I only really knew her because her locker was next to Cassie's. Her parents removed her from the school after I electrocuted her." Thelma reels off.  
That last remark causes Ella and Leon to stare at her in disbelief.  
"You did what?" Gapes Leon.  
"It was an accident. Well, sort of." Thelma mutters with a shrug. "Cassie was under Azazeal's influence at the time, but I'd learnt that Nephilim don't like electricity, so I thought I'd try to shock her out of it. I wired up Cassie's locker to the power supply, but it was the Goon who got zapped. It worked out alright in the end though, because Cassie got a shock while trying to pull the Goon clear. And it freed her from Azazeal's control, just as I'd planned."  
"And the Goon? Amber Chase?" Ella asks.  
"Spent three days in hospital and we never saw her again. She never came back to Medenham." Thelma replies.  
"I vaguely remember something about a girl being hurt. How come you never mentioned this before?" Queries Leon.  
"I've never seen her photo before." Murmurs Thelma. "When Peggy located these girls, you assigned me the task of befriending Midge because she was the one most likely to have the sight, remember? I didn't have any involvement with the others."  
"What are the odds of Cassie – a direct descendent of Rachel McBain – and this girl Amber - a descendent of Rachel's extended family - both attending Medenham at the same time?" Leon wonders aloud.  
"It must have been Azazeal." Ella declares, looking at Amber's image on the screen. "Working behind the scenes, using his influence, pulling strings. Amber was probably his back-up plan. If Cassie had resisted, or refused to be taken by him willingly, he would have had Amber to fall back on."  
At that moment, Thelma's mobile rings, playing the theme tune to _Scooby Doo, Where Are You?_ The ghost puts the phone to her ear.  
"Hello?" She says, then after a few seconds her face furrows in puzzlement. "Wait a minute. Slow down. Whoa!" Thelma moves the phone away slightly and places her free hand over it's lower half. "My contact at the New Church. Something's up." She explains, then removes her hand and places the phone back to her ear.  
"Okay, start again." Thelma declares, and after several seconds her eyes widen and she turns to look at Ella and Leon, the expression on her face indicating to them that whatever she's being told is very important indeed.  
"Tell me again about Amber Chase." Thelma says to the caller.

Cut to a close-up of Midge's face. Her eyes are closed and she's apparently either asleep or unconsious. After a few seconds she stirs, mumbles and opens her eyes. The camera pulls back into an overhead shot and we see that Midge is lying on a thin bunk in a small square windowless room with bare stone walls. Illumination comes from an uncovered but dim light bulb behind a glass panel in the ceiling, which is otherwise also stone. The only other feature of the room is a large wooden door with a small opening approximately three quarters of the way up, the view through which is hindered by black vertical iron bars. She's in a cell.  
The camera angle changes as Midge sits up, then pauses slightly, as though dizzy. After several seconds she slowly gets up, swaying, and has to place one hand against the wall at the head of the bed to steady herself. Once she's confident that she can balance, she walks the few steps over to the door and looks through the opening.  
The camera switches to Midge's POV: a featureless corridor on the other side of the door, with bare stone walls and lighting identical to that in her cell. Kessel and Rachel McBain walk into shot from the left of the frame. Kessel has her long blonde hair in a ponytail that hangs down her back, and is wearing a black leather catsuit with matching knee-length high-heeled boots. Rachel also has her hair in a ponytail and is wearing a horseriding outfit: a bright red jacket with cream jodhpurs and long black boots. She's also carrying a riding crop. Three figures emerge into frame from the right, walking towards Kessel & Rachel: two tall, burly men in black suits, and inbetween them is a young woman in her early twenties. The two men are actually half-carrying, half-dragging her along. Both are holding her with one hand firmly around her arm just under the armpit, and their other hand holding her arm just below the elbow. The girl's body is semi-limp, her head is hanging down, and her feet - clad in white trainers - are being dragged along the stone floor on their toes. The men stop in front of Kessel and Rachel with their burden. The captive girl has peroxide blonde hair, in a bob. She's wearing a sleeveless midriff-bearing yellow lycra top and matching leggings that only reach to above the knee, and was clearly abducted while out jogging.  
"The last of our guests." Says Rachel brightly.  
She reaches across, places the riding crop under the girl's chin and uses it to lift and tilt back her head. The young woman's eyes flicker open, but her eyes are unfocused. She's not fully conscious.  
"Greetings, Miss Chase." Rachel murmurs. "I do hope you enjoy your stay with us."  
She glances up at the two men;  
"Take her to the fifth cell." She orders, with a smile.  
Kessel and Rachel step aside to make way for the men as they drag the girl off further down the corridor. As we hear the sound of one door being unlocked and opened, Rachel catches sight of Midge looking through the opening.  
"I see the first of our guests is awake." Rachel declares cheerfully, as she crosses the corridor and stands in front of the door to Midge's cell, looking through the bars so her face is only ten or so inches away from the young girl's.  
"I apologise for the somewhat basic accommodation." Rachel remarks. "These cells were built during the Civil War. The lighting is the only modern concession we've made."  
She pauses, regarding her captive curiously;  
"You know, I've made several attempts over the years to develop my telepathic abilities, with disappointingly mixed results, but you're broadcasting my name so strongly that I can't fail to pick it up. How do you know who I am?" Rachel asks.  
"I've seen your portrait." Murmers Midge, finding her voice.  
"The only portrait ever painted of me was destroyed in a fire nearly six years ago." The older woman counters.  
"I've seen photos of it, on the internet." Midge replies, telling the truth.  
Rachel ponders for a moment, weighing up the young girl's answer, then silently nods;  
"Even so, that doesn't explain why you don't seem too surprised to see someone walking round alive who is supposed to have died over two hundred years ago." She declares. "And I can think of only one reason why that might be. Tell me, my dear" she smiles "how _is_ Ella?"

Cut to the main living area in Ella's flat. Thelma is still on her mobile, Ella and Leon waiting and trying to gauge as much of the content of the conversation as they can from the ghost's one-sided remarks. The call is clearly coming to an end;  
"Okay. …I understand. …You be careful, okay? …You too." Thelma murmurs into the phone, then moves it away from her ear, pressing the button to end the call.  
She looks at Leon and Ella;  
"You're not going to believe this." The ghost remarks.

Cut to Jo's bedroom in the New Church's headquarters. Roxy is sitting on the bed, holding the chrome mobile in front of her so her hand is almost resting in her lap, gazing down at it sadly. Sitting next to her is Jo, who has a quiet, reassuring smile on her face.  
"Don't worry." The ex-teacher says soothingly. "Although I don't deny that what you've just told them may potentially place them in danger, you can see why it was vitally important to let Ella know. I promise you're not leading them into any kind of deliberate trap."  
Roxy looks at her.  
"Do you swear it?" The ghost enquires firmly.  
"I swear." Jo replies, unblinkingly meeting Roxy's gaze.

Cut to the expansive, flat and lush green lawn of Rachel McBain's country estate. Two chairs and a circular table have been set out in the centre of the lawn, under a large shading parasol. It's bright and sunny, and the mansion looms large in the background. Rachel sits in one chair, and Midge in the other - having been handcuffed to the arm-rests. Several heavily-built bodyguards in dark suits stand approximately a hundred metres away around the edge of the lawn, spaced apart. A light lunch has been laid out on a silver tray on the table: triangular sandwiches, a bowl of salad, a glass jug of orange juice with ice cubes bobbing about, etc. Wearing a white top buttoned up to her chin, tight dark brown trousers and black high-heeled boots, Rachel gazes across the lawn and speaks to her captive audience (_Throughout the following sequence, we cut back and forth between Rachel and Midge in the present, and silent black & white flashbacks of what Rachel is describing, accompanied by her voiceover_);  
"It's been such a long time since I've been able to tell my story to someone who would appreciate it." She remarks with a smile. "You've no idea how refreshing it is. So… where to begin?" She muses.  
"The beginning?" Suggests Midge warily.  
"Indeed." Replies Rachel, the smile never wavering. "In 1743, I founded the Medenham coven. There were thirteen members in total, women from the local village and members of my household staff, but as founder it was my decision that we should try to summon a Nephilim. I foolishly thought that such a creature would be so pathetically grateful to be freed from Hell, that he would grant us great power. Greater than any man or woman had ever possessed. (_We see the coven standing in a circle around a pentagram that has been carved into the dirt in a field. It's night, and each member is carrying a torch. They are all dressed in simple hooded robes and silently mouthing an incantation in unison_.) But the ritual invoked magicks that were darker than we realised. (_We see Azazeal, naked and with smoke erupting from his skin, lying on his side in a curled position in the centre of the pentagram. As the coven members watch, the Nephilim slowly, painfully, gets to his feet, trembling as he does so_) Not only did we summon Azazeal, but we were blessed – or cursed, to put it more accurately – with a dubious privilege: being capable of bearing his child."  
"The Messiah of the Fallen Angels." Murmurs Midge.  
"Just so." Rachel confirms. "Rather than give us the power we craved, Azazeal was only intent on taking what he wanted. And he wasted little time. On the night of his summoning, within an hour of him being freed from the fires of Hell and able to walk on this Earth, he forced himself on the youngest member of the coven. (_We see a terrified young girl, screaming in fear and pain, struggling while lying naked on a dirt floor, trapped under Azazeal as he – equally naked – restraints her by holding down both of her arms as he violently thrusts into her, a look of sadistic glee on his face_) Her name was Meg, she was barely a teenager. Practically still a child. Her parents had served my family and both had died while Meg had been very small. I had taken her into my house and put her to work, but I always looked after her, and ensured that she received an education better than most. And now this child had been raped by a monster I had summoned."  
Rachel pauses to take a sip of orange juice before continuing;  
"Azazeal vanished immediately thereafter. Within days Meg was showing signs of being with child. (_We see Meg in a simple cotton nightdress, sitting up in bed, a bulge clearly showing. She is in tears and looks extremely distressed. Rachel is sitting next to her on the edge of the bed, turned towards the girl with a look of concern on her face, reaching across and stroking Meg's hair_.) The poor girl was terrified, myself and the rest of the coven, extremely unnerved, although in hindsight we shouldn't have been too surprised at the unnatural pace of the pregnancy, considering who the father was."  
Rachel allows herself an ironic smile.  
"What happened?" Asks Midge.  
"A week after the conception, Meg violently and painfully miscarried. (_We see Meg – clearly in great pain – staggering out of the servants' quarters – a long single storey building at the back of Medenham, separated from the mansion by a large courtyard. She grabs the doorframe for support with one hand, while clutching her swollen belly with the other. Then she collapses. Two women dressed in simple maids' uniforms are running across the yard towards her_.) I wish that had been the end of her ordeal, but the child had grown to such a size within her that she still had to give birth to it's body." Rachel replies. "Meg went into labour five days later. I stayed with her that night and all the following day (_We see a sweat-covered Meg in bed in a dimly-lit room, looking exhausted and in agony. Rachel – grimfaced but calm - is by her side, clutching the girl's hand as she screams, then patiently and gently applying a damp cloth to her feverish brow_). Several times she became so weak she started to slip away. I bullied her into staying alive. Azazeal reappeared the next morning, to lay claim to the child. I confess I took some pleasure in informing him that I had thrown his offspring's lifeless corpse onto the fire a few hours earlier." (_We see Azazeal standing in front of Rachel, a look of both surprise and impotent anger on his face_.)  
Rachel looks across at Midge;  
"I think it was then that both myself and Azazeal realised that no child of his could ever be carried and born successfully unless the mother gave herself to him willingly. Instead of taking a woman by force, he would have to manipulate and seduce her, deceive and trick her into inviting him between her legs. Since then I've discovered that Azazeal had walked the Earth before, in ancient Egypt, and impregnated a woman then, but on that occasion his lover had gladly surrendered to him because she believed him to be one of her gods. Until the moment I confronted him that day, I believe Azazeal had always regarded humans collectively as a feeble-minded irritation and women in particular as chattel. It had never occurred to him that he would need a woman's agreement – a woman's permission – to obtain what he wanted."  
"So what did Azareal do, after you told him that his child was dead?" Queries Midge.  
"He fled." Murmurs Rachel. "I was actually foolish enough to believe he feared that myself and the rest of the coven would take revenge, after what he had done to Meg. As if we could have harmed him!" She snorts a humourless laugh before continuing: "We soon learnt the real reason for his flight. Because shortly thereafter, I met an Anointed One for the first time." (_We see a dark brown horse slowly approach Medenham along the mansion's lengthy driveway, a cloaked and hooded figure in the saddle. The rider reaches up and pulls back the hood, revealing a beautiful but grim-faced woman who appears to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and a dark, crescent shaped birthmark encircling her left eye_.)  
Rachel smiles, almost bitterly;  
"The only mercy shown to Meg was that her death was quick. I don't think she suffered. Myself and the other members of the coven realised that the same fate was intended for us, and we fled, some with only the clothes they wore on their backs, as far as possible. (_It's night, and a scene of chaos. We see the servants' quarters engulfed in flames. Several women are running away in panic, and in the centre of the courtyard Rachel is atop a pebble grey horse that is rearing up in fright. After several seconds she manages to bring the animal under control. She glances round and sees the Anointed One emerging from the burning building through an open doorway, carrying a large sword in one hand. The light cast by the flames causes the blood on the blade to glisten. For a long moment, the eyes of the Anointed One meet with Rachel's across the courtyard, then Rachel digs her heels into the horse's sides and rides at speed out of the courtyard_.) It was only later, when we felt able to stop and rest, that the full gravity of our situation weighed down upon us: we were tied to Azazeal forever. He could sleep with countless other women, but it was only in our bodies that his seed could take root and grow. Ours… and those of our daughters. And our granddaughters. And so on. We had cursed our own descendents."  
Rachel lets the words linger in the air.  
"I discovered later that the Anointed One who slew Meg was named Madeline Thawn." She comments. "Or at least that's the earliest name she used that I've been able to trace."  
"But you said this happened in 1743?" Questions Midge. "Ella was the Anointed One back then."  
"_An_ Anointed One, my dear. Not singular. Heaven likes to have more than one option." Rachel counters. "From research I commissioned, I've established that Ella was born in 1563. Her father, John Dee was an Annointed One and trained her as his apprentice from an early age. However, it was Madeline Thawn who had taught and mentored him, much earlier. They had gone their separate ways once she was confident of his abilities and knew there was nothing else she could teach him. Madeline continued to operate independently of John Dee, and subsequently his daughter, for many years. When she arrived at Medenham, I believe she had been an Anointed One for over four centuries."  
Rachel pauses to sip her orange juice before continuing;  
"Needless to say, that wasn't the last I saw of Azazeal. He tracked me down, but when I resisted his advances he took my sanity, and I sacrificed a loyal servant in a deranged attempt to send him back to Hell. And then the curse was visited upon my daughter, Esther." She murmurs. "I had sent her away, to stay with relatives. But Azazeal found her. Her guardians fell under his influence, and he persuaded them to return her to Medenham, where his power was strongest. And she subsequently died for her mother's sins."  
Several seconds pass before Midge speaks, cautiously, and chosing her words with care;  
"One thing I don't understand," she ventures "is that historial records state you died, in an asylum."  
Rachel looks coolly at her captive, then gazes over the lawn again, a slight ironic smile on her face;  
"Yes, madness was my punishment for refusing Azazeal," she confirms "but immortality was my reward for raising him. A particularly double-edged sword. I think it amused both Heaven and Hell to have me see the suffering my actions would bring to generations of McBains. Eventually the madness passed. And as for reports of my death, I've found that if you gain enough wealth, power and influence, you can dictate how history is written. I had a grave and headstone planted in the Medenham grounds to complete the illusion. I'm sure your friend Ella Dee has also assumed new identities numerous times over the centuries."  
She takes another sip of orange juice, then looks across at Midge.  
"Where are my manners? Would you like some?" Rachel asks, indicating the jug on the table.  
Midge slowly nods, then subtly raises her arms slightly, just enough to rattle the chains on the handcuffs.  
"Don't worry, I'll be mother." Rachel announces with a prim smile, then she gets up, pours juice into a free glass, and walks round to where Midge is sitting.  
As she does this, several of the bodyguards surrounding the lawn visually tense, but Rachel waves a hand in their direction - a gesture that's half-dismissive, half-reassuring - letting them know there's no cause for concern.  
Lifting the glass to Midge's mouth and gently placing the rim against the girl's lower lip, Rachel then puts her other hand supportively behind Midge's head. She carefully tilts the glass forward as Midge tilts her head back, enabling the captive to drink unhurriedly for several seconds. Rachel then slowly moves the glass away and places it on the table. Picking up a napkin, she softly dabs Midge's mouth dry.

Cut to the bathroom in Malachi's penthouse apartment. Malachi is facing the large mirror that covers the entire wall above the black imitation marble counter which contains the sink. He is leaning forward, staring intently at his now-aged features, slowly running the middle finger of his right hand over his recently acquired wrinkles, tracing the path of every line. Alex silently enters the bathroom, wearing just a cream silk nightie, and stands at his elbow, facing him sideways on.  
"I'm not staying like this, Alex." Malachi murmurs firmly, acknowledging her presense. "I won't. I'm never getting old. I'm going to say young forever. That's how it's supposed to be. I'm going to be young."  
As he prattles on, locked in denial, he never takes his eyes off his reflection, fixating obsessively on his face. Alex moves a few inches closer and starts gently nuzzling his ear.  
"This means nothing." She whispers. "It doesn't matter. I love you no matter –"  
Before the succubus can finish, Malachi spins and violently strikes her across the face with the back of his forearm, knocking her to the floor. He stands over her, eyes glaring and his face distorted with rage;  
"_IT MATTERS TO ME!_" He snarls so loudly that it's practically a yell, fists cletched at his sides so tightly that the veins stand out on the back of his hands.  
Alex doesn't cower. Instead, as she lays on her back she raises herself slightly on her elbows and regards her husband, looking him firmly in the eyes. His blow has badly split her upper lip, and blood in flowing freely from the wide, lengthy cut, staining her teeth and descending in trails to drip off her chin.  
"I've managed to access Jo's private files." The succubus announces coolly. "My suspicions were correct. She's been lying to you all along. She's always known where the missing part of your lifeforce was. It's inside a girl called Amber Chase. She was a student at Medenham at the same time as your mother."  
Taken aback, Malachi's anger dissipates so quickly it's as though someone had flicked a switch.  
"Why would she lie to me?" He queries in near-wonderment, meaning Jo.  
Alex extends a hand towards him in expectation. He looks at it for a moment in non-comprehension, then understands her intention and takes hold of it, helping his wife to her feet.  
"Isn't it obvious?" Declares Alex, placing a steadying hand on his chest as she regains her balance. "So that she and Hell could control you. They wanted some leverage, a hold over you, to ensure that you didn't stray from their plan of bringing about the End of Days."  
"But they had no reason to doubt me." He murmurs, annoyed, slightly bewildered and almost hurt. "The End of Days has always been my intention, the same as their's."  
"I suppose they thought you were a little too – what did Jo say? – wilful." Suggests Alex. "This way, they would have a guarantee."  
Malachi ponders on this for several seconds, then nods.  
"So where is this girl? How do I go about about getting this part of me back?" He asks.  
"Jo's files include full details of the ritual that can extract the piece of your lifeforce from her and place it back into you." Alex tells her husband, standing in front of him with her hand still placed on his chest. "I've printed it off and placed it in my wall safe. As for the girl, there's been a surprising development. I've just checked your personal e-mail account. You been contacted by someone who claims to have Amber Chase, together with four other women, whom they say are all descendents of Rachel McBain's extended family. They want to trade."  
Malachi takes this on board, his ears almost visually pricking up as he realises the implications.  
"Show me this e-mail." He commands.  
Alex adopts her most kittenish smile.  
"I need to get cleaned up first." She purrs, then she makes a show of slowly running her tongue over her bloodied upper lip.  
She turns her back to him, takes a dazzlingly white towel and drabs at the cut with it. A thought occurs to Malachi;  
"Why didn't you tell me about this Chase girl straight away?" He asks. "I wouldn't have needed to get angry with you if you had."  
To emphasise the point, he playfully but sharply slaps the right cheek of her behind through the silk of her nightie, causing Alex to give a slight start, then laugh softly. She finishes tending to her lip before she replies;  
"I felt the need to be punished." She remarks casually, gazing at herself in the mirror. "Plus I thought spurring you into action would remind you of who you really are. You're no victim or hostage to fate. That man who stood over me, filled with strength, rage, power – _that_ was my husband. Besides," she murmurs, turning back towards him "you know how much I enjoy bloodsports."  
Malachi regards her curiously, reflecting on what a unique catch she is, and slowly beginning to realise – for the first time - perhaps how well matched they are. He offers her his arm. With a satisfied smile, Alex takes it, and husband & wife walk out of the bathroom.

Cut to the lawn at Rachel's country estate. The lady of the house is stood leaning over the circular table, refilling Midge's glass, before sitting back down on the seat opposite her young captive.  
"Now, where were we?" Rachel ponders breezily. "Ah yes – the other members of the Medenham coven fled far and wide. Some of them traveled to Ireland or mainland Europe. Madeline Thawn managed to track down and butcher a couple of them, but the others remained safe. After my madness passed, I used my family's fortune to establish a new identity for myself, away from my former social circle but still an acceptable position in society, in keeping with my previous circumstances. I managed to locate and forge lines of communication with those members of the coven who had remained in mainland Britain. And discovered from them something remarkable."  
Rachel pauses to glance over the sandwiches. Selecting one, she picks it up and takes a small bite out of a corner. She chews delicately and unhurriedly, shallowing before she resumes talking;  
"You have to remember that at this time child mortality was high. It was common for a woman in her late twenties to have had twelve or more babies, of which – if she was lucky – two had perhaps survived past infancy. However, the coven members I contacted all informed me that the majority of their offspring were surviving not only birth, but early childhood, and remaining in good health. Some of the coven believed the only explanation was that they had been blessed – that this good fortune was a sign that God had forgiven them for practising the dark arts. But I knew better. I sensed Hell's hand in these children's wellbeing. Azazeal wanted to ensure there were many potential candidates to bear his child."  
Rachel takes another petite bite from the sandwich, slowly chews and shallows.  
"But as the years went by," she continues "the surviving coven members watched their children grow to adulthood, became grandparents, and eventually died peacefully in their beds. The last reported sightings of Madeline Thawn occurred in the late eighteenth century. It seemed that both Heaven and Azazeal had been distracted by other matters – that their attention had migrated elsewhere. Decades passed without incident, and I dared to think that we might actually be safe. But then Ella Dee and Mary Warren fell upon us."  
Rachel pauses, uttering the names with a mixture of weary bitterness and resigned acceptance.  
"Ella Dee and Mary Warren. God's Assassins." She murmurs. "By this time, only a few of the families and descendents of the coven had remained in the British Isles. Most had emigrated overseas. To them, the Anointed One had become a half-forgotten story about a family curse, used to frighten unruly children. They had no idea what awaited them. (_We see Ella and Mary, both in hooded cloaks, striding through a graveyard on a brightly moonlit night. Ella is walking directly towards the camera, looking straight ahead with an emotionless but determined look on her face, while Mary follows one pace behind, slightly to Ella's left_.) Madeline Thawn had been ruthless. Ella and that Warren bitch were worse. Far worse. Relentless. Untiring. Entirely without mercy, or pity, or remorse. Over the course of several decades, they tracked some of the families down and murdered their womenfolk. Azazeal re-appeared, having learnt of Ella & Mary's success, and attempted to find and seduce the other female descendents before the Anointed Ones could place them permanently beyond his reach. And so, with the fate of the world at stake, Heaven and Hell played their sick little game, using the deaths of dozens of innocent young girls as a means of keeping score. One by one, the entire family trees of the original members of the coven were wiped out. Whole bloodlines ceased to exist..."  
Rachel's voice trails off. She gazes at the nibbled sandwich sitting on the small china plate on the table, lost in thought.  
"And what were you doing, while all this was going on?" Ventures Midge.  
Rachel glances up, almost as though having forgotten that Midge was there, but the prim smile is back in an instant;  
"I risked a final visit to Medenham and used an incantation to place a psychic marker there, to warn any of my direct descendents about Azazeal." She states. "Then I retreated back into hiding. I spent the last few decades of the nineteenth century travelling the world, switching identities every few years, but always remaining amongst the upper echelons of society, consolidating wealth and influence. When you live as long as I have, the time inevitably comes when you're no longer infiltrating the power structure – you have _become_ the power structure. I always tried to monitor the activities and location of Ella, Mary, Azazeal and the scattered descendents of the coven, but unfortunately for most of the twentieth century I was preoccupied with a rather unseemly power struggle against the Count St Germain for control of the Illuminati. When the dust had settled from that squabble, I discovered by using the various considerable resources at my deposal that none of the remaining families descended from the Medenham coven had survived to see the new millienium. To be fair, Ella Dee and Mary Warren weren't entirely to blame, especially as the latter was now out of the picture. The assorted wars of the twentieth century, which had moved away from the battlefield and instead targeted the general population, had also taken their toll. But the result was the same: all the bloodlines had ceased. Stopped dead. Except one."  
"Your own." Murmurs Midge, and Rachel nods;  
"Of all the coven, I had two descendents left." She confirms. "Cassie Hughes and her father. I learnt that Azazeal had managed to install Cassie at Medenham, and sent a spy to the school to access the situation (_we see a flashback of Kessel in her Janice identity, breasts threatening to spill out of her canteen uniform as she shovels large spoonfuls of mashed potato onto students' plates_), but Cassie had already been impregnated prior to my agent's arrival. No doubt Ella has told you what happened next. As for Cassie's father, he died of auto-erotic asphyxiation in a Hamburg hotel room, three years ago "  
"That still leaves Malachi, Cassie's son." Midge points out.  
"A parasite that fed on the end of my bloodline, nothing more." Counters Rachel, quick as a flash. "Which leads us to the question that you've shown remarkable and, quite frankly, admirable willpower in not asking, namely 'Why have I abducted you and the other girls you saw down in the cells?'"  
"It had crossed my mind." Deadpans Midge, giving the handcuff chains another jangle.  
Rachel smiles – a proper, amused smile which causes her nose to wrinkle, as opposed to the usual prim smile she displays – and just manages to surpress a giggle.  
"I _like_ you." She declares, looking at Midge with new-found curiosity. "I never expected that. How strange."  
"I'm afraid I can't return the compliment." Murmurs Midge.  
"Quite understandable." Replies Rachel, totally unabashed. "But to answer the question about you and the others…" She pauses for a moment, and looks Midge straight in the eye: "I had a sister and a brother. Four sisters originally, but Elizabeth died when only three days old, Anne passed away one month before her first birthday, and Jane when she was four. Disease knew no class boundaries in those days. Only my elder sister Emily, my brother Thomas and I survived to adulthood, and Emily died in childbirth, while bearing her first and only child, a sickly boy who died when he was seven. Thomas however produced a son and a daughter, both of whom had children of their own. The son's bloodline ended early, when his only great-grandchild died young, without any children of her own, but the descendents of Thomas's daughter married into other families, and eventually scattered across the globe. And despite numerous wars, revolutions, diseases, disasters, and all the other assorted routine strife of human existance, five female members of my niece's bloodline, all of child-bearing age, are currently alive and well."  
Rachel looks pointedly at Midge and sits silently for several seconds, letting what she's just said slowly sink in. For Midge, the penny finally drops.  
"Me and the other girls –" Midge's voice tails off.  
"You really didn't know, did you?" Purrs Rachel, who is smiling again – but instead of her usual prim smile, this one is undeniably smug. "Typical Ella."

Cut to the street outside the house that contains Ella's basement flat. Thelma, Leon and Ella are all placing bulging backpacks into the open boot of Leon's Vauxhall Corsa.  
"We're certain this is on the level, then?" Queries Leon, straightening up. "Azazeal knocked up Cassie, who then received an electrical shock when she touched Amber Chase. And as Malachi was gestating in Cassie's womb, part of his lifeforce was transferred via Cassie to Amber?"  
"It's certainly possible." Ella decides as Leon slams the boot shut. "Nephilim are susceptible to electricity. Who knows what it's effects would be on the embryo of a half-Nephilim child?"  
"Especially with Amber being a very distant relative, having McBain genes from way, way back in her family tree. It must have made her compatible. If it had been anyone else, the transfer of Malachi's lifeforce wouldn't have happened." Adds Thelma. "Don't forget, my source has never put us wrong before."  
Leon unlocks the doors and the three of them enter into the Corsa.  
"If nothing else, at least this proves we were right to sew tracking devices into most of Midge's clothes over the last few months." Comments Leon, settling in behind the steering wheel.  
"I still don't like that we did it behind her back, though." Thelma mutters from the back seat. "Do you know how many times I pricked my fingers with that sewing needle? It's a good thing I don't feel pain. Good thing I don't bleed either, or I'd have left bloodstains over half her wardrobe. I'd liked to have seen you try to explain that to her."  
Sitting in the front passenger seat, Ella is leafing through several pages of A4 printouts, reading and re-reading certain sentences or paragraphs.  
"If the signal's accurate – and we've no reason to believe it's not – Midge's being held at a country estate that was sold twenty years ago to a multi-national corporation. It's a shame we don't have more time to dig up anymore information on them, whoever they are."  
Leon reaches beneath his seat and pulls out a creased and battered map-book. It's cover is almost falling off and it's pages curl inwards at the corners. He passes it back to Thelma, who takes it with a peeved look on her face.  
"Why have I got to map read again?" The ghost complains.  
"Because you're good at it." Ella chips in, glancing back at her friend. "Remember that time I took us the wrong way round the M25?"  
"And we ended up getting snarled up next to Heathrow, right at the beginning of the rush hour." Thelma murmurs, concluding the anecdote.  
The ghost starts flicking through the map book, looking for the correct page to start from;  
"It's nice to be appreciated for something, I suppose." She opines. "Alright Leon, wagons roll."

Cut to the lawn at Rachel's country pile. Rachel is looking, slightly amused, at a distressed Midge. Thoughts of shock, realisation and betrayal have been racing through the young girl's mind, but she's collected them into some kind of order;  
"Okay… so me and the others are descended from your brother." Midge murmurs, speaking slowly more for her own benefit than for Rachel's. "That still doesn't explain why you're brought us here."  
"All the members of the coven were cursed with the ability of bearing Azazeal's child," Rachel replies, "but as I was the coven leader, responsible for the notion of raising the Nephilim in the first place, it has often been suspected, or alleged, or even assumed that my actions cursed not just my own descendents, but my entire family. Those whose blood was closest to my own. My siblings."  
Midge's eyes widen slightly.  
"You mean that –" She beings, before Rachel finishes the sentence for her;  
"There's a slim chance that one of you may be capable of carrying and successfully giving birth to Azazeal's spawn."  
Rachel takes another sip of orange juice.  
"As the Messiah of the Fallen Angels, Malachi has been a wash-out." She continues. "Hell assigned a representative to babysit him and keep everything on schedule, but despite her best efforts Malachi is perilously close to completely cocking up the End of Days. And if that scenario comes to pass, then you and my other four guests are the last hope that Azazeal and the Nephilim have of creating another Messiah."  
Rachel pops the remaining corner of her sandwich into her mouth, deliberately chews and shallows.  
"Earlier today I contacted Hell's representative and offered to trade you and the other girls. To my admittedly considerable surprise, that offer was rejected. So, as I can't sell to the forces of Hell the means of creating another Fallen Messiah, I have already contacted Malachi and made him the same offer. He'll realise that you and my other guests pose a threat to him. As long as you all remain alive, there's the possiblity that another Messiah of the Fallen Angels can be born. But as you are the last remaining descendents, if Malachi were to eliminate you, he will be making himself irreplaceable. The end of the McBain bloodline will mean that Hell will have no choice but to support and protect him, as he'll be the last chance of the End of Days ever happening."  
Midge stares at the immortal for several seconds in near-disbelief.  
"You're selling your last remaining family to someone who wants to kill them so he can destroy the world." She eventually murmurs.  
"My dear, I have the blood of my daughter and two and a half centuries worth of descendents on my hands. I have no more tears to cry, nor any pity to give." Rachel declares flatly, no longer smiling. "So... now you know."  
Kessel has entered the lawn and is walking towards her employer and Midge, coming from the direction of the mansion. Spotting her approach, the immortal catches the eye of one of the bodyguards on the parameter of the lawn, and waves a dismissive hand towards Midge. The guard walks swiftly but unhurriedly across the lush green grass to the table, where he takes Midge firmly by the arm, and lifts her out of the chair.  
"Hasn't it occurred to you" Midge blurts out to Rachel "that even if Malachi does a deal with you, no matter how much money he gives you, it won't be any good to you if everything ceases to exist?"  
Rachel adopts an amused smile;  
"Money? No, my dear. Nothing so mundane." She declares, then nods to the bodyguard, who starts to firmly escort Midge - maintaining his grip on her arm - back towards the house, the pair of them passing Kessel as the tall Germanic blonde heads towards her employer.  
"What news?" Rachel asks as Kessel reaches her.  
"Malachi has accepted your offer." Kessel reports. "He doesn't even want to negotiate. He says he's prepared to give you whatever you want."  
Rachel beams like a cheshire cat, leans back in her chair and claps her hands together in front of her, clasping them together in triumph.  
"Excellent." She purrs, then gazes slyly towards her underling. "I think a celebration is in order."  
Rising from the chair, Rachel stands in front of Kessel, places her hands on the young woman's shoulders, and gently pulls Kessel towards her while leaning in and softly kissing her on the lips. As Kessel responds, Rachel moves one hand to the zip at the front of the girl's catsuit, and starts to pull the fob downwards, immediately exposing the German's formidable breasts as they almost burst out of the confines of the tight outfit. Kessel breaks away from the kiss to glance in the direction of the guards on the edge of the lawn.  
"Here?" She asks.  
Rachel smiles and reaches up to softly caress her employee's face;  
"No need to be coy." The immortal gently chides. "It's nothing they haven't seen before."

Final scene: a semi-darkened room, the only illumination being a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls are bare plaster, splattered and splashed with numerous long-dried stains of various colours, some faded, other more recent. A man, naked except for a black leather thong, is strapped by his wrists and ankles to a large X shaped metal frame that stands against one wall. The man's body is covered in dozens of long, thin, nasty-looking weals and cuts. His head is hanging down, his eyes are closed, and he's wearing a ball gag. A tall, slim woman is standing in front of him, admiring her own handiwork. She's wearing an outfit almost entirely of black PVC and leather: a corset, long gloves that almost reach her elbows, a thong, thigh-length boots and a head-covering gimp mask with zipper mouth. High on her left leg she's also wearing a garter, behind which a mobile phone has been tucked, and in her right hand she's carrying a very long leather whip, most of the length of which is coiled on the bare concrete floor. The phone starts to ring. Draping the whip over the man's neck, the woman pulls the phone out from the garter with her left hand, while with her right hand she reaches back, undoes the vertical zip at the rear of the gimp mask then pulls the mask off in one swift movement, revealing herself to be Perie. Taking a moment to shake her hair loose, the faerie answers the phone.  
"Speak." She purrs in her exotic accent.  
We hear Jo's voice, clearly audible over the phone;  
"Are you busy?" The ex-teacher asks.  
"I was just concluding my first session with a new client." Perie murmurs. "The initial encounter is always the most exhilarating. Their limitations are a mystery, waiting to be discovered. Unfortunately this particular individual proved to be something of a disappointment. He commenced screaming the agreed safety word with barely twelve minutes having passed. I have to confess that I was enjoying myself so comprehensively, I completely ignored him. It was very unprofessional of me."  
"And now?" Jo enquiries.  
Perie gazes over the man's prone form.  
"He is broken." She concludes.  
A pause.  
"I have something for you." Jo reports. "You'll need to be ready to move at short notice."  
"Am I to presume that you need me to kill someone?" The faerie enquires.  
"Correct." Jo confirms. "Most likely a great many people."  
Perie smiles.

On screen caption: To be continued.


	11. Arranging the Deckchairs

**Episode #11: Arranging the Deckchairs.**

Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode#10 – Leon saying "four of the five McBain descendants who Peggy located for us have been reported as being abducted."; Jo saying to Corvide "I was wondering when Rachel would make her move."; Rachel looking through the bars and saying to Midge "How is Ella?"; Malachi reacting with shock to his aged reflection; Jo saying to Malachi "Part of your lifeforce was siphoned away while you were either an infant, or still in your mother's womb/now it appears to be running out."; Alex saying to Malachi "She's always known where the missing part of your lifeforce was. It's inside a girl called Amber Chase."; Rachel lifting up Amber's head with a riding crop and saying "Greetings Miss Chase."; Rachel saying to Midge "Five female members of my niece's bloodline, all of child-bearing age, are currently alive and well." Midge responding "Me and the other girls.."; Kessel reporting to Rachel "Malachi has accepted your offer/he's prepared to give you whatever you want."; Thelma, Ella and Leon all getting into Leon's car, while Thelma says "My source has never put us wrong before."; Roxy sitting on Jo's bed, gazing down sadly at her mobile phone, with Jo sitting next to her;  
Perie saying into her mobile "I assume you want me to kill someone?"

Malachi and Alex are walking up a flight of bare concrete stairs. The walls on either side are featureless except for a coat of white paint.  
"It's all arranged?" Malachi snaps.  
"They've e-mailed with the location. It's a country estate, in the greenbelt." Confirms Alex.  
Malachi acknowledges this with a nod, as the two of them reach the door at the top of the stairs. Malachi opens it and steps through onto the large, flat rooftop of the London headquarters of the New Church. The door is actually located in one of the walls of a square raised area in the centre of the roof that serves as a helicopter pad. Malachi and Alex walk up a set of metal stairs onto the pad, and stand awaiting a helicopter that can be seen as a black speck heading towards the building, approaching through the cloud-dotted sky. The sun is beginning to set, but it's still quite light. A strong breeze blows around the rooftop, causing Alex's cream leather overcoat to flap slightly, and Malachi has to brush his greying hair out of his eyes. Another set of footsteps can be heard on the metal stairs, and Malachi looks round to see Shannon emerge into view. The dark-haired succubus is wearing tight black jeans with a chucky white leather belt, black Doc Martins, and a bright red short-sleeved top. Both her arms are bandaged from her fingertips to where they disappear into her sleeves. The skin on her face and neck is extensively pitted and scarred with hundreds of pockmarks, and a black patch covers her left eye. Malachi looks inquisitively at Alex.  
"You said you wanted some muscle." She says with a quiet smile.  
"Will she be enough?" Asks Malachi as Shannon steps onto the pad and begins to walk towards them.  
"Oh yes." Purrs Alex. "The doctors say she's back to full fitness. And she's literally brimming over with violent rage looking for an outlet, which I thought would come in useful if anything does wrong today."  
Malachi considers this for a moment, then nods. A few seconds later Shannon joins them. The sleek black helicopter is getting nearer and louder, the harsh whine of it's turbine engine and the slap of it's rotors against the air making any further conversation impossible.

Cut to Malachi's penthouse apartment, a couple of floors below. Jo is standing in the glass overhang, arms folded, gazing out at the view of the city. The setting sun is starting to dip under the horizon, and the sky to the west is a wonderful fiery red. Perie silently enters the room and walks to Jo's side. As the faerie reaches the ex-teacher, the helicopter carrying Malachi, Alex and Shannon dips into view as it heads away from the building.  
"Malachi told me he was going away to his retreat in the Highlands, to come to terms with his rapid aging." Jo comments, watching the helicopter depart.  
"And his true destination?" Asks Perie in her silky accent.  
Still gazing at the helicopter, Jo unfolds her arms and holds her hand out towards the faerie, a small piece of folded paper held between her fingers. Perie takes it, unfolds it, and reads the contents.  
"We used to lease helicopters whenever we had need of one," explains Jo, nodding towards the departing aircraft, "but eventually Malachi threw a hissy fit and insisted we buy a small fleet of our own. But although he likes to think otherwise, they're not his personal property, they belong to the New Church. And as I control the Church's finances, it means I pay the pilots' wages. And I've instructed them to inform me of every flight plan that they lodge. The location is a large country estate. Presumably Rachel's current base of operations."  
By now, the fast moving helicopter has already dwindled to a dot in the sky, heading west. Raising her right arm, Jo indicates towards another helicopter - identical to the first except it is deep red in colour - that is approaching the building from a north easterly direction, it's fuselage glinting as it catches some of the remaining sunlight.  
"Your chariot awaits." The ex-teacher announces. "It'll put you down a few miles from the grounds of Rachel's mansion."  
"And my objective?" Asks the faerie.  
Jo turns and walks out of the overhang, into the main living area of Malachi's apartment. She picks up a thin folder that is resting on the arm of the plush black leather sofa, and hands it to Perie, who has followed a few paces behind. The faerie opens the folder and carefully examines several photos contained within (due to the camera angle, we can't see the photos clearly).  
"We didn't create this situation, but we can use it to our advantage by making sure that Ella and Malachi are kept distracted and out of the way." Declares Jo. "I've promised Roxanne that I don't intend to have Ella or Leon killed, and I keep my promises. So try to avoid damaging them too much if you possibly can. However, you must ensure that these individuals" the ex-teacher taps the top of the folder with her forefinger "do not leave that mansion alive."  
"Understood." Confirms Perie, placing the photos back into the folder and closing it. "So, apart from the Anointed One and her lover, and these targets," she waves the folder slightly "what are my instructions regarding anyone else in the vicinity?"  
Jo smiles softly;  
"I leave that entirely to your discretion… and imagination. Have fun." The ex-teacher murmurs, as the crimson helicopter nears the building.  
Opening titles.

Rachel's country estate. It's night. Rachel's mansion bristles with infa-red security cameras placed high on the walls, while key areas – such as exterior doorways - are bathed in permanent spotlight, and security guards trudge back & forth on patrol. In the grounds further away from the house, motion sensors have been placed atop of metal poles strategically positioned so that every inch of the gardens are covered.  
The camera cuts a public road running alongside a section of the high wall surrounding the estate. Ella and Thelma – the latter holding a toolbelt weighed down with various items loosely against her side - stand and watch as Leon reverses the Corsa right up against the stonework. Placing the toolbelt on the roof of the car, Thelma slips a thick, elasticated black headband over her hair and fits it around her head. A small, oblong-shaped torchlight is clipped to the headband, and Thelma tugs the band round slightly so that the torch is positioned in the centre of her forehead. She locates the switch at the side of the torch and tests it, turning the light on and off. Then the ghost clambers onto the bonnet of the Corsa, gets carefully to her feet, and once sure of her balance, she steps up onto the vehicle's roof. The top of the stone wall is now only about three feet above her. Crouching down and picking up the toolbelt, she keeps hold of one end as she throws it over the top of the stone wall, so that it's hanging down both sides. Letting the belt go, Thelma jumps up with arms outstretched, places both hands on top of the wall, and hauls herself up. As she straddles the wall, she glances back at Ella and Leon.  
"Wish me luck." The ghost murmurs.  
"See you inside." Ella declares with a nod, then she and Leon get back into the Corsa and after a couple of seconds the vehicle starts up and pulls away.  
Moving into a sitting position on top of the wall, Thelma puts the toolbelt on, doing it up tightly around her waist. She gazes across at the mansion, a large dark shape resting on the landscape in the distance, several doorways and windows lit.  
"I should have asked for an Action Man when I was a child." The ghost muses, then she jumps down off the wall into the inky darkness of the estate grounds.  
The camera remains fixed at the top of the wall. There's a pause for a couple of seconds. Then we hear Thelma mutter to herself;  
"Damn! Forgot to synchronise watches."

Cut to Kessel, standing on the outer parameter of a vast open-air courtyard that's flanked behind her and to the left by two wings of the mansion, and serves as a helicopter landing pad. Rachel's personal helicopter sits to one side, allowing more than enough room for another two craft to land and take off comfortably. Wearing a brown leather mini-skirt, matching knee-high boots, black fishnet stockings, and a long-sleeved, low-cut cream top that shows off her abundant cleavage, Kessel watches as the helicopter containing Malachi, Alex and Shannon approaches, coming in low over the mansion's gardens (we see a brief shot of Thelma, looking up at the aircraft as it passes overhead). As the helicopter nears the landing pad, Kessel holds a hand protectively over her eyes as the downwash from the rotors causes hundreds of minute particles of grit and dirt to fly about. The sleek black craft makes a textbook landing, a safe distance away from Rachel's transport. As the pilot kills the power to the engines and the rotorblades start to slow, Malachi opens the door of the vehicle and steps out, Alex and Shannon at his heels. Kessel waits for them to walk over to her.  
"Welcome." The German girl declares with a fixed smile. "My mistress is expecting you. Please follow me."  
Turning, she opens a tall door of polished oak and leads them through into the mansion.

Cut to Thelma, making her way through the grounds, maintaining a brisk pace. We see one of the closed circuit cameras slowly sweeping over the area in which Thelma is walking, then cut to the CCTV control room inside the mansion, in which one of Rachel's bodyguards is keeping watch over a bank of screens. We go into a close-up of the screen displaying the area where Thelma is, and of course she can't be seen.  
We cut back to the ghost as she nears the mansion itself. A bored-looking guard is slowly walking along a gravel path that runs parallel to the side of the building. Without even bothering to glance in his direction, Thelma crosses in front of the guard, passing just a couple of feet from him, but as she's invisible he shows no reaction. As the guard continues on his patrol, Thelma makes her way alongside the mansion wall, eventually finding one of the large wrought iron framed windows that's been left open, by just a couple of inches. She glances about to check whether any of the guards are near, then carefully pulls the window open further. It creaks quietly, but makes no other noise. Clambering up, Thelma hauls herself through the opening and enters the house, pausing only to close the window behind her before going to explore.

Cut to Kessel leading Malachi, Alex and Shannon though to the mansion's sizable indoor swimming pool. Wearing a white bikini, Rachel is in the middle of a length, performing the backstroke. Reaching the end of the pool, she stops, glances over and sees that she has visitors, and makes her way over to the ladder.  
"Good evening." She says as she treads water. "I trust my home is to your liking?"  
"I've seen worse." Mutters Malachi, as Rachel makes a show of climbing the ladder, stepping into the poolside and pausing to dramatically shake her hair free of water.  
"I'm glad it meets your approval." Rachel remarks as the droplets continue to fall.  
Kessel picks up a large, white fluffy towel and a matching robe from a table by the wall and walks towards her mistress. Taking the towel from her underling, Rachel starts to dry herself as Kessel takes up position alongside her, both women facing their guests.  
"Time for the formalities." Rachel declares. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rachel McBain."  
Both Malachi and Alex's eyes widen slightly, then a grin breaks out on Malachi's face and a snort of laughter escapes him.  
"You're remarkably well preserved for someone who's supposed to have died two and a half centuries ago." He remarks with a cocky smile.  
"And you look very old, considering you're still a few months short of your sixth birthday." Rachel counters, making the smile immediately vanish from his face. "What ails you, Malachi?"  
"That's my concern." Malachi mutters guardedly. "Let's just get this over with. You say you have the five remaining female descendents of…" He pauses as he remembers who he's talking to: "your brother?"  
"Indeed." Confirms Rachel, handing the towel to Kessel, taking the robe in exchange and putting it on. "Would you like to see them?"  
"We insist." Declares Alex firmly.  
Rachel looks at Alex curiously, as though she previously hadn't noticed her.  
"Of course." The immortal purrs. "But first I must shower. Kessel will show you through to the Games Room, and provide you with any drinks or refreshments you require."  
She walks past Malachi, Alex and Shannon, pausing as she does so to run an appraising eye over Alex's shapely form.  
"Fire and steel." Rachel remarks approvingly. "You must be quite a man, Malachi, to keep this fascinating creature in check."  
Then she breezes past them. Kessel motions Malachi, Alex and Shannon through another door.

Cut to Rachel's spacious, lavish bathroom, the walls and floor made of polished black marble. The lady of the manor is standing naked in a gently sloping, egg shaped, slightly lowered convex area in the centre of the room. A showerhead emerging down from the ceiling directly above her is cascading water over her, which then exits via a drain at the lowest point of the dipped area. There's a knock at the bathroom door.  
"Enter." Rachel says loudly, over the sound of the water.  
The door opens and Kessel steps into the room.  
"One of our guests wishes to speak with you. She says it can't wait." The German girl announces.  
"She?" Rachel queries, raising a quizzical eyebrow.  
"Mrs. Solomon." Replies Kessel.  
Rachel smiles to herself, ponders for a moment, then nods.  
"Send her in." She instructs.  
Kessel nods, and leaves the room. Rachel loudly claps her hands, turning off the sound-activated shower. The gush of water immediately slows to a trickle, then stops. A few seconds later Alex enters.  
"You have my full attention, Mrs. Solomon." Rachel declares, facing the succubus, unashamed of her nakedness. "I'm all ears."  
"I've come to offer my services," Alex says "as a sign of good faith, and to assure you of my husband's good intentions regarding the deal we've come to make."  
"Offer your services?" Rachel murmurs, quizzically. "How exactly?"  
Alex starts to slowly walk towards the immortal across the polished marble, pulling off her top and discarding it on the floor as she does so, revealing that she's not wearing a bra.  
"I thought I could shrub your back." The succubus declares coolly, looking Rachel directly in the eye.  
Rachel smiles like the cat who's got the cream. Clapping to reactivate the shower, she holds out an inviting hand to Alex.

Cut to the CCTV control room elsewhere in the mansion. We see a close-up of one of the screens, which is showing Rachel and Alex standing naked under the shower, embracing and kissing passionately. We switch to the wide-eyed face of the bodyguard who's watching the screen intently, then pan up to reveal Thelma standing just behind him, equally fascinated by Rachel and Alex's activities. In unison, Thelma and the guard suddenly both tilt their heads to the right, their eyes still fixed on the screen. After a few seconds, Thelma shakes her head, as though to break the spell that the screen is casting, pulls a mobile phone out of her toolbelt and presses in a number.  
The camera cuts to a moonlit lane next to the high stone wall of Rachel's estate. Leon and Ella are both laying with their legs stretched out on the bonnet of the Corsa, their backs resting against the windscreen, gazing up at the stars.  
"You know, in different circumstances this could be quite romantic." Ponders Leon.  
Ella's mobile phone rings and she answers it. We cut back to Thelma in the control room.  
"It's me." Announces Thelma, holding her mobile to the side of her head, and we hear Ella's voice on the other end;  
"We saw a helicopter." The Anointed One remarks. "Malachi?"  
"Yes, he's here." Confirms Thelma. "I'm still familiarising myself with the layout of this place." She glances at another of the screens. "There appear to be cells - somewhere in the basement, I guess. Ten-to-one that's where Midge and the others are being held. I'll try to find out more. One thing I can confirm is whose house this is. It's Rachel McBain's."  
Cut back to the country lane. Phone held to her ear, Ella sits bolt upright on the bonnet.  
"She's alive?" The Anointed One exclaims. "You're sure?"  
Cut back to Thelma, gazing again at the screen that's displaying Rachel's bathroom.  
"I recognise her from the portrait that used to hang in the dining hall at Medenham. She hasn't aged a day." The ghost declares with certainty.  
We see the CCTV screen: Rachel is lying on her back on the marble floor, eyes closed and silently crying out, with the back of Alex's head just visible at the left of the screen, buried between Rachel's legs.  
"Trust me, it's her." Thelma continues. "In the flesh."  
"The clock is ticking, Thelma." Ella murmurs.  
"I know. I'll keep you posted." The ghost replies, then she ends the call.

Cut to the Games Room. There's a professionally-sized green snooker table and a blue pool table, a roulette wheel, and a couple of card dealing tables complete with several chairs, all placed around the room. A couple of large red sofas stand to one side of the room, facing each other with a long, thin shortlegged table placed inbetween. Malachi is slowly pacing about the room, hardly making an effort to hide his impatience. Shannon is leaning over the snooker table, picking up balls between her fingertips and rolling them across the table into the corner pocket that's the furthest away from her. Rachel and Alex enter. The lady of the manor is wearing a sleeveless, red silk oriental-style dress that ends just above the knee, is slit up the right leg to her waist, with an embroided white locus blossom pattern that runs across the front and back. Alex is wearing a white towelling robe, identical to the one Rachel put on after exiting the swimming pool.  
Please, sit." Smiles Rachel, gesturing towards the sofas.  
Malachi and Shannon sit on one sofa, Rachel and Alex settle down on the one opposite. Rachel makes a deliberate point of reaching over, parting Alex's robe below the waist, and placing her hand on the succubus's exposed thigh, all the while looking directly at Malachi.  
"Giving me your wife as a plaything, Malachi?" She chides, still smiling. "My, you are nervous. You do realise that by revealing how much this deal means to you, you've placed yourself in a position of weakness?"  
"I've already told you that I'm prepared to give you whatever you want." Malachi mutters uncomfortably. "Let's just get this over with. How much?"  
Rachel laughs delightedly.  
"Money? Oh no, Malachi. I want something far more valuable." She declares.  
Malachi shifts awkwardly on the sofa. He's unused to not having the upper hand, and clearly dislikes it intently.  
"Alright, tell me." He murmurs coldly.  
Rachel pauses and seems to ready herself, like an actor quickly running their lines through their head before stepping out on stage;  
"I may not age, but I am not a true immortal - my body is as vulnerable to damage as any normal person. A serious enough injury can kill me." She pauses to look Malachi directly in the eye. "Summoning your father forever damned me. Therefore, should I die, I will never see Heaven. You were placed on this Earth to bring about the End of Days. If or when that event occurs and everything is destroyed, I will go straight to Hell. That is not the most appealing of prospects."  
"Go on…" Murmurs Malachi, apparently beginning to slowly grasp his host's intentions.  
"As the Messiah of the Fallen Angels, the Bringer of the Apocalypse, you will have some considerable influence in Hell after the End." Rachel continues. "In return for giving you the surviving descendents of my brother, I wish to be spared burning in the flames with the rest of the condemned."  
"Let me guess -you want to rule over the Pit by my side?" Malachi mutters scornfully.  
"I'm realistic enough to not have ambitions that grand." Rachel counters, her smile never coming close to wavering: "A place in Purgatory would be my ideal, but failing that I would gladly serve you in Hell, at your feet."  
Malachi looks at her inquisitively, realising the possibilities this presents.  
"Anything to avoid the flames, eh?" He smirks.  
"My pride would be a small price to pay." Concedes Rachel.  
"I can't promise you Purgatory. I suspect even my authority will have it's limits." Malachi declares. "However, once I take my rightful place as a Prince of Hell, I fully intend to cherry-pick the most attractive condemned souls to serve as my personal harem. I'm sure I can find a place for you."  
Mouth fixed in taut line, Alex silently glares at Malachi. Ignoring her, he makes no attempt to hide the leering expression on his face as he blatantly runs his eyes up and down Rachel's slim, shapely legs. Enjoying his gaze, the lady of the manor makes a show of slowly uncrossing and then recrossing them.  
"I think we have a deal." She purrs with a smile.  
Taking hold of the hand that Rachel has placed on her exposed thigh, Alex firmly lifts it away and places it on the sofa between herself and the immortal.  
"Then show us the descendents." The succubus states determinedly.  
"There's that steel again." Rachel murmurs appreciatively, looking at Alex. "I do hope your husband lets us play together when we're harem sisters."

Cut back to Leon and Ella, still in the lane, but now standing next to the Corsa. Ella's mobile rings.  
"Thelma?" She says, putting the phone to the side of her face.  
Cut to a close-up of Thelma's face, with her hand holding her mobile filling the left of the screen (throughout the following verbal exchange, the camera slowly pans back away from Thelma, revealing her surroundings).  
"I've hit the jackpot." The ghost announces, and we hear Ella's reply over the phone;  
"You're with Midge?" The Anointed One asks.  
"No. I've not been to the cells yet, but I know where they are. I'm going there next. I'll guide you in." Thelma declares, then pauses. "It occurred to me that Rachel's got so many security guards here, they're practically a private army. And if you've got an army, you need an armoury."  
The camera has backed up so far that we can now see that Thelma is in a large cavernous room with bare concrete walls and exposed florescent strip lighting. The room is filled with wooden crates and boxes, all neatly stacked in rows and columns, some reaching from floor to ceiling. Thelma is standing in an aisle between two rows, where some of the columns are stacked only two or three boxes high. Several of the uppermost boxes have had their lids removed, and the contents are visible: automatic rifles, light machine-guns, hand grenades, mortar shells, handheld rocket launchers, all carefully packed in straw.  
"Munitions?" We hear Ella enquire over the phone.  
"Enough to start a small war." Confirms Thelma. " I think Rachel's been indulging in some small scale arm-dealing on the side. Everyone needs a hobby I suppose."  
"What are your thoughts?" Murmurs Ella.  
"You know the plan was for me to sabotage the mansion's security system?" Replies the ghost. "Open up and do damage to a vital junction box, or sever a few important cables? Well now I've got a better idea."

Cut back to the lane by the estate wall. Ella is listening to her mobile, Leon standing by her side. After several seconds, she speaks into it;  
"Okay. Keep in touch." She murmurs, ending the call.  
Leon looks at her expectively.  
"Slight change of plan." The Anointed One informs him.  
"Anything wrong?" He asks, but Ella shakes her head;  
"Situations like this are always fluid." She tells him.

Cut to the basement of the mansion. Rachel is leading the way along the wide corridor containing the doors to the cells. Kessel is at her mistress's elbow, followed by Malachi, Alex (who has changed back into the clothes she arrived in) and Shannon. Having heard their approach, Midge and a couple of the other captives are gazing at the visitors through the barred windows on the doors.  
"You see? All present and correct, just as I promised." Declares Rachel, grandly sweeping her arm towards the cell doors, a Cheshire cat smile on her face. "We have all the necessary evidence to prove their ancestry, should you wish to peruse it."  
"That won't be necessary." Malachi assures her, flashing what he believes is a winning smile. "Now that we both know how much this deal means to both of us, I think we can afford to trust one another. Besides, there's actually only one of these girls I'm interested in. Her."  
He points directly at Amber Chase, who's standing at the window of her cell door. Amber's eyes widen in surprise, her mouth unconscious opens and she takes a step back.  
"She's the only one I want." Continues Malachi. "You can do what you like with the others."  
He waves his hand dismissively in the direction of the other cells. Rachel and Kessel regard him curiously.  
"You're quite sure?" The lady of the manor asks.  
"Absolutely." Smiles Malachi.  
Alex reaches across and squeezes her husband's arm, her eyes shooting a silent warning. He notices her concern.  
"Don't worry Alex, we can tell Lady McBain what's happening. We're all friends here." He glances towards Rachel, grinning cockily: "Right?"  
"Of course, my prince." The lady of the manor murmurs demurely, then she walks slinkily towards Alex, takes hold of the succubus's free hand, raises it to her mouth and gently kisses it.  
"Soon we'll be playmates for eternity." She purrs dreamily, gazing into Alex's eyes. "There shouldn't be any secrets between us."  
Alex regards her rival coldly.  
"You asked earlier why I'm looking like this." Malachi continues, jutting a thumb towards his face.  
"Prematurely aged and weakened?" Rachel comments, raising a quizzical eyebrow as she takes her eyes off Alex and glances towards him.  
Malachi nods curtly.  
"Well, it's that peroxided bitch's fault." He declares, pointing at Amber's cell again. "Part of my lifeforce resides in her. And I want it back, right now. We've brought with us all the instructions needed to carry out the ritual that will extract it from her. Is there somewhere in your grounds where we can perform it?"  
"No time like the present, I suppose." Rachel opines, pausing for a moment and considering his request. "Yes. I know a place that I'm sure will meet your requirements."  
Grinning, Malachi walks over to Amber's cell and peers through the barred window at the frightened girl within.  
"Just think," he sneers in triumph "for the last six years you've had part of me inside you. Do you know how many women wish they could say that?"

Cut to Jo's office at the new Church's headquarters in London. The ex-teacher is sitting behind her desk, engrossed in reading something on her computer's monitor screen. There's a knock at the door.  
"Enter." Jo says, not taking her eyes from the screen.  
An attractive but hard-faced girl in her early-twenties, her black hair in a bob and wearing an extremely short red mini-skirt, black fishnet tights, red stilettos and a dark crimson t-shirt, opens the door and walks to Jo's desk. She bears Malachi's mark on her neck. Jo briefly glances at the succubus, then returns her attention to the screen.  
"Ah, Monika." The ex-teacher remarks. "Thank you for answering my summons. I have a small task for you, it won't take long. I just need you to find my PA, Ms Corvide. She has a file I need, but she's not at her desk and her mobile's turned off. I can't go looking for her, as I'm in the middle of something important. I know she's in the building somewhere. You might want to look in the archive rooms on the upper basement level first. I suspect she's there putting something in storage, but the intercom down there is broken and Maintenance haven't gotten round to fixing it yet."  
"Yes, Miss Watkins." Says Monika obediently. "Is there anything else?"  
"No, that's all, thank you." Murmurs Jo, granting the succubus another glance.

Cut to a corridor under ground level at the New Church's headquarters. The walls are bare concrete, and the lights in the ceiling are placed a considerable space apart, leaving shadowy areas between each pool of light. The doors of a lift at the end of the corridor open, and Monika steps out. She gazes at her surroundings for a moment, then walks briskly, purposely, down the corridor. She halts at a metal door on which the words 'ARCHIVE STORAGE 1' has been stencilled in white. Opening the door she walks in. The room inside is dimly lit, and she takes a couple of tentative steps forward, squinting as her eyes adjust to the relative gloom (unnoticed by the succubus, who has stepped past it, is a chair placed against the wall to one side of the door, on which a black business suit is neatly folded, with a pair of black high-heeled shoes placed on the floor underneath). Monika's breath clouds as she exhales.  
"Cold in here." She murmurs faintly to herself, before raising her voice and asking loudly "Hello? Ms Corvide? Miss Watkins sent me."  
Silence. She takes a couple of more steps forward, her eyes getting used to the murkiness. Those eyes suddenly widen and we see an expression of stunned shock appear on her face. The camera angle changes so that we can see what she's seen: four naked bodies are hanging on the wall in front of her, approximately ten feet away. The bodies are all female, and each is placed in a crucified position, arms out straight from the shoulders. They appear to have partly fed upon – large chucks of flesh have been bitten off, at least two of the bodies have a leg ending in a gnawed stump, there are jagged teeth marks on breasts, and a couple of the corpses' stomachs are gaping open, with one of them having loops of intestines hanging out, nearly reaching the floor. As the camera pans over the carcasses, and we see their lifeless faces hanging down, we recognise them as the Malachettes.  
"That's why the room's refrigerated." Comes a voice from somewhere in the gloom, causing Monika to issue a gasp that sounds almost like a cry.  
"It delays the decomposition." Continues the voice, seeming to come from everywhere at once, as a frightened Monika starts to back towards the door while looking about wildly, her head darting as she tries to see the speaker.  
"Though personally I find that a touch of decay improves the flavour." The voice declares.  
Glancing about, Monika keeps retreating towards the door. Behind her, we see a naked Corvide suddenly rise up. The PA's eyes are completely black, wide open, and unblinkingly staring at the back of the succubus's head, while her mouth is fixed into a wide but tight-lipped smile, with blood and tiny fragments of meat smeared thickly over the lower half of her face. She leans forwards and speaks softly right into Monika's ear;  
"Boo."  
Before the succubus can react, Corvide grabs her shoulder with one hand, pushes Monika's head to one side with her other hand and sinks her teeth into the girl's neck with a harsh rasping craw-like sound. Monika screams, frails her arms and tries to pull away from Corvide, but the changeling's grip is too strong. Corvide abruptly jerks her head back, biting off a sizable chunk of Monika's neck in the process, and violently shoves the succubus, sending the girl sprawling onto the bare concrete floor. Monika tries to scramble to her feet, but suddenly her limbs start jerking and she collapses onto her back, legs straight and arms rigid by her sides as her body goes into spasm. Regarding the stricken girl with interest, Corvide stands a few feet away, blood dripping down from her face onto her breasts, audibly chewing and then swallowing the mouthful of Monika's flesh. The succubus's body continues quaking and sweat has broken out all over her skin. The veins under her skin closest to the bite wound are noticeably turning darker, almost black, and this is spreading rapidly across her entire body, moving down her exposed arms and visible under the mesh of the tights on her legs. As Monika whimpers in pain and terror, her eyes wide and pleading, blood starts to spontaneously well up on the undamaged side of her neck, precisely where Malachi's mark is situated. The blood forms in the exact same shape as the mark, and Corvide pads forwards, black eyes glinting and smiling hungrily. The changeling suddenly scoops down onto all fours, her face next to Monika's neck, and the succubus screams as Corvide leans in… unfolds an unnaturally long tongue, and eagerly, almost lovingly, licks the blood off the girl's skin, carefully lapping her neck clean with slow, lingering and deliberate movements, as though savouring the experience.  
Staying by Monika's side, Corvide lifts her head and upper body away from the girl, straightening her back and resting on her knees. The changeling runs the tips of her fingers over her breasts, collecting the tiny splashes of liquid blood gathered there, then raises her hands to her face and starts sucking and licking her fingers. The door out of the room opens, and Jo stands on the threshold, regarding the scene calmly before entering.  
"It's done?" The ex-teacher asks.  
Turning to look to her superior, Corvide smiles and nods while continuing to suck a digit. Jo walks over, then crouches down next to her naked PA and examines Monika's neck. Glistening from the attention it received from Corvide's tongue, the skin there is unmarked. Malachi's sign has vanished. Jo and Corvide exchange a look and a satisfied smile.  
"Good girl." Murmurs Jo, as she reaches across and strokes the side of the changeling's blood-splattered face, smearing her fingers with gore as she does so.  
As the ex-teacher moves her hand away, Corvide takes hold of it with both her hands and – while the two women maintain eye contact - she gently starts kissing and licking Jo's fingers, while making a quiet sound that's similar to a cat mewing affectionately. Once Jo's hand had been thoroughly cleaned, the two of them then turn their attention to Monika: her spasms have decreased to a slight trembling, but she still seems unable to move, apart from her eyes, which look pleadingly at Jo.  
"What's happening to me?" The girl manages to whine faintly.  
Jo gestures towards Corvide;  
"My colleague is a first generation Lilin. Do you know what that means?" Jo asks, then continues without waiting for an answer. "She is a carrion eater, and to aid her in acquiring food, her bite is fatal to mortals. In fact, descendents of another branch of her family became the first vampires. But you, my dear Monika, are not mortal." Jo smiles. "You're a succubus. One of the most powerful of Malachi's inner circle, third only behind Alex and Shannon. So we suspected that instead of proving fatal, Corvide's bite would merely infect you, though to be honest we weren't entirely sure it would work. It's never been tried before, you see. But it appears the experiment is a resounding success."  
Still smiling, Jo looks across at Corvide and places a sisterly hand on the Lilin's bare arm.  
"Congratulations. I hope you find motherhood as stimulating as I have." The ex-teacher murmurs warmly.  
Monika's trembling has stopped. She tentatively lifts her hands and holds them above her face, turning them over and back again, examining them as though she's never seen them before.  
"Everything's…" The girl murmurs, then pauses. "I'm different. What am I? Am I… Lilin?"  
Gazing down at Monika with unblinking, pure black eyes, Corvide shakes her head;  
"Not pure Lilin, no." She declares. "Something new. Unique. A hybrid. Free of Malachi's control."  
Jo and Corvide both straighten up. The PA extends an expectant hand towards Monika, and – after a moment's hesitation – she takes it. Corvide helps the former succubus to her feet, and the girl looks uncertainly back and forth at Jo and the Lilin as she steadies herself. Then, gazing curiously at Corvide, Monika suddenly leans towards her and sniffs inquisitively at the PA's raven-black hair. A look appears on the girl's face that is half-incredulous, half-realisation.  
"Mother?" She enquires wondrously.  
"I am now." Corvide declares, cupping Monika's face in her hands. "Welcome to the family, newborn."  
"So what happens now?" Monika asks plaintively.  
Jo places a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder.  
"There's a new world coming, Monika." The ex-teacher murmurs reassuringly. "And you're going to get a ringside seat at it's birth. Everything is going to change. It's a new Genesis. And it's going to be glorious."  
"It's been quite a taxing day for you." Comments Corvide. "You must be exhausted."  
"No." Monika opines, almost surprised. "I don't feel tired at all."  
"And you never will again." Corvide smiles. "But your energy levels _have_ been depleted. They need replenishing."  
The Lilin takes the former succubus by the hand and guides her towards the corpses of the Malachettes.  
"Come." Corvide declares. "Let's feed."

On-screen caption: To be continued.


	12. God's Gift

**Episode #12: God's Gift.**

Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode #11 – Thelma saying into her mobile "I can confirm is whose house this is"; Rachel declaring "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rachel McBain." Malachi commenting "You're remarkably well preserved for someone who's supposed to have died two and a half centuries ago" and Rachel replying "And you look very old, considering you're still a few months short of your sixth birthday"; Malachi murmuring "You have the five remaining female descendents of your brother?"; Rachel sweeping her arm towards the cell doors and announcing "All present and correct." Malachi pointing at Amber and declaring "She's the only one I want/Part of my lifeforce resides in her." Rachel saying "I know a place that I'm sure will meet your requirements"; Corvide sinking her teeth into Monika's neck. Monika looking at Corvide and Jo and asking "What am I?" Corvide replying "A hybrid. Free of Malachi's control."; Thelma standing in the armoury, boxes of weapons open on either side, revealing their contents. Ella talking into her mobile, asking "Munitions?" and Thelma replying "Enough to start a small war."

We're in the armoury within Rachel's mansion. Emerging from behind a row of crates, Thelma finds what she's been looking for – a sturdy looking metal cupboard, tall and wide with twin doors, stood against the bare concrete wall. An electronic keypad lock sits at chest-height on one of the doors, slightly to one side of where both doors meet, and below a sign with red lettering that declares 'AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.'  
"We'll see about that." Murmurs Thelma.  
She pulls from her toolbelt what appears to be a smooth metal flask, then carefully unscrews the top to reveal a nozzle. Holding the canister at arms-length, the nozzle pointing at the keypad, she depresses a tiny lever behind the nozzle and a thick spray of liquid bursts out of the nozzle with a heavy hiss, splashing all over the keypad and the section of door surrounding it. As Thelma screws the lid back onto the canister, the liquid instantly freezes with an audible crackle. Placing the canister back in the toolbelt, the ghost pulls out a hammer, and without hesitation, swings it and strikes the keypad dead centre. Both it and some of the metal door around it breaks and shatters, as brittle as glass, leaving a jagged hole. Shoving the hammer back into the belt, Thelma grabs the side of the damaged door with both hands and yanks it open, an action that is accompanied by a short protesting screech of metal. Inside the cabinet, small grey metal boxes are neatly stacked on the top four shelves, with larger black metal foot lockers sitting three abreast on two shelves underneath.  
"You are a dark horse, aren't you." A voice behind Thelma suddenly declares.  
Shocked, the ghost spins round. A few feet away, Mary Warren is standing with her arms folded, gazing at Thelma with a slight smile. She's wearing her bright blue leather biker's jacket, matching skin-tight trousers and high-heeled boots, with black fingerless leather gloves.  
"Detonators and timing mechanisms, unless I'm mistaken," Mary murmurs, glancing at the contents of the cupboard, "and I'm not. Thelma the friendly terrorist ghost. Who'd have thunk it?"  
"What are you doing here?" Blurts out Thelma, finally overcoming the shock of seeing Mary there and finding her voice.  
Mary taps her nose, and winks.  
"Strictly speaking, I'm not here at all." She smiles, then in answer to the bewildered look on Thelma's face, she unfolds her arms and fans out her hands with a showman's flourish.  
"Astral projection." Mary announces. "The real me is stretched out on a sofa with a glass of slightly chilled cranberry juice. Catherine's curled up asleep next to me, and I'm listening to a Curve compilation that I burnt myself. Halfway through 'On The Wheel' at the moment. Great stuff. So, how are things with you?"  
Thelma blinks and looks at Mary again. Something isn't quite right. The Anointed One looks perfectly solid, but the colour of her clothes, skin, and her distinctive green & red hair seems to be slightly faded, like a photograph that's been delicately washed out. Glancing down, Thelma sees that although Mary at first glance appears to standing firmly on the bare, dusty concrete floor, her booted feet are actually placed on thin air. She's standing at least an inch off the ground. Cautiously pulling a small screwdriver from her toolbelt, the ghost hesitantly tosses it at the leatherclad immortal. The screwdriver passes through Mary where her stomach should be, meeting no resistance whatsoever, and exits out of the small of her back, landing with a metallic 'chink' on the concrete floor a few feet behind her.  
"Ta-daa." Trills Mary.  
"Alright," Murmurs Thelma, nodding, accepting Mary's presence, "but you haven't answered my question."  
Grinning, the Anointed One tilts her head and gazes at Thelma for a moment before responding;  
"Remind me." She remarks.  
"What. Are you. Doing here." Thelma declares with more patience than she feels.  
"Oh that." Mary opines, then shrugs. "Just checking in. Seeing how you're doing. Thought we could have a girly chat."  
"How did you know I was here?" Thelma asks.  
"I didn't," Counters Mary "but you're not exactly difficult to find. In fact, it's ridiculously easy if you're spent a century with nothing to do but fine-tune your psychic abilities. Ghosts send out an incredibly strong signal. You're like CNN and the BBC World Service combined. So, shall we share the latest goss? C'mon, spill."  
Slightly un-nerved by the notion that Mary can locate her with ease, Thelma forces herself to concentrate on the task at hand, and glances at her watch. Time's a wasting. Half-turning away from the Anointed One, she starts opening the boxes of detonators and examining the contents.  
"What would you and I possibly have to talk about?" Thelma mutters, not even glancing at the immortal.  
"Nothing and everything. You choose. Anything you want." Mary bats back unperturbed, folding her arms again, then adding: "Ella and I are closer than blood, and I've gotten to know Leon quite well during my brief time with him. But you…"  
The immortal tilts her head slightly and regards the ghost for a moment.  
"I barely know you at all." The Anointed One muses. "You're part of the family, Thelma. I just thought it would benefit us both to become better acquainted."  
"Well, I prefer not to socialise with people who kidnap, torture, and try to blow up my friends, so you thought wrong." Declares Thelma, still concentrating on what she's doing.  
"Can't believe you're still holding that against me." Mary smiles, pretending to look mildly abashed. "I think I see the problem here. You, Ella – you're thinking too small scale. Malachi? The End of Days? You're still occupying yourselves with a story that's already finished. Everybody else is a couple of chapters into the next volume. You should really think about joining us."  
"I don't time for your ramblings, Mary." Thelma states firmly, pointedly not looking at her. "I'm busy."  
The ghost grants the Anointed One a glance.  
"Just go. Leave me alone." Thelma says flatly, then returns her attention to the contents of the cabinet.  
"Fair enough." Mary smiles. "But not so much of the 'rambling.' One of the advantages of non-linear thinking is that you realise how ridiculously structured and predictable everybody else's behaviour is. It's the ultimate outsider's perspective. If you sit back and study other peoples' actions for long enough, then everything can be worked out, provided you think it through. For example, your lover – Maya? – didn't go to Hell, did she? Want to know why?"  
"What?" Thelma murmurs, startled, turning to look at Mary.  
But the immortal has gone. Thelma is alone in the armoury.

Cut to elsewhere in the grounds of Rachel's estate. A convoy of three sleek, black, 4x4 off-road vehicles and a flatbed truck move at speed across the open and mostly flat terrain, the headlights of the lead vehicle cutting through the darkness. The truck is at the rear, and on it's flatbed section are long metal poles, large rolls of cabling, and other objects which have been firmly secured, and are partly covered by a tarpaulin. The lead vehicle slows, pulls over to the side, and comes to a halt. The three vehicles following do likewise, parking alongside each other. Small but powerful searchlights – two of the roof of each vehicle, fixed facing forward – blaze into life, adding considerably to the light being cast by the headlights, and there's the sound of the doors opening and being slammed closed as those within the vehicles - Rachel McBain, Kessel, Malachi, Alex, Shannon, and a half-dozen of Rachel's men - emerge. A dishevelled Amber Chase is also there, gagged, her hands tied behind her back, and sandwiched between two of Rachel's heavies, who both have a firm grasp on one of her arms. The assorted group pause, and we see that beyond them, partly lit by the glare from the lights, is a circle of standing stones, approximately forty feet in diameter. There are eight stones in total, ranging in height from four to six feet. They have all been worn smooth by time and the elements, and at least half of them are leaning at angles of almost forty degrees. Standing a couple of paces in front of Malachi, Rachel turns to face him, so that the circle is behind her, and extends her arms like a circus ringmaster welcoming the audience;  
"The perfect place, don't you agree?" She declares with a smile, intending it as a statement, not a question.  
Malachi walks past her, into the circle, followed by Alex and Shannon. He stands in the centre and slowly turns round, gazing at the stones surrounding him.  
"Who erected these stones?" He asks.  
"No-one knows for sure." Purrs Rachel, entering the circle and walking up to him and his entourage. "But they were placed here at least five thousand years ago. Long before Christ. Even before Man knew Yahweh."  
Making a point of walking past Alex and Shannon, Rachel stands in front of Malachi and looks him in the eye.  
"It's believed that at one stage, this place was used for human sacrifice." She continues, meeting his gaze. "Can't you sense it? All that death? All the blood that has seeped into the soil here? The strength, the sheer power, of that pure, unwavering belief?"  
Lowering her chin slightly, she looks at him knowingly;  
"During hot summer nights, I've had the most amazing alfresco sex here." She murmurs. "This very spot."  
Malachi breaks into a smile that matches hers. Reaching out, he strokes the underside of her chin.  
"The perfect place." He confirms with a nod.  
Rachel indicates over to the flatbed, which is illuminated by one of her employees holding a powerful flashlight, as two of his colleagues pull away the tarpaulin, revealing a small portable generator.  
"My men will set up lights for you." Rachel reports.  
Malachi acknowledges this with a nod, then gestures for the two heavies holding Amber to bring her forward. The  
men wait for a second and glance towards Rachel, who nods her approval, before manhandling the frightened girl into the circle. If Malachi notices or is displeased by the men's subtle insistence on only taking orders from their employer and not him, he gives no sign. With Amber placed in front of him, Malachi reaches across and gently brushes some loose hairs away from the girl's face while gazing at her tear-stained features.  
"Human sacrifice." He ponders softly. "I'm all for reviving old traditions."  
Opening titles.

On-screen caption: 1613.  
A wind-swept hillside under a dark, storm-laden sky. A cloaked and hooded figure on horseback approaches a small, weather-battered stone cottage that has a roof of jagged slate. Reaching the structure, the rider dismounts and pats the horse's neck, whereupon the animal wanders off to graze. The figure opens the cottage's wooden door and steps inside. The interior of the cramped structure is dim and murky, the only illumination coming from a slowly dying fire in a small fireplace set in the wall on the left. The rider reaches up and pulls back the hood, revealing a strikingly beautiful young woman, seemingly in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and a crescent shaped birthmark encircling her left eye. She pauses to lift a couple of small, roughly-cut logs off a pile next to the fireplace, and places them carefully on those embers that are still burning. Then she turns and surveys her surroundings through the gloom. The interior of the cottage consists of a single room. In the centre is a simple wooden bed in which a bearded man in his late forties/early fifties lies, covered in rough, thick blankets pulled up to his chin. His eyes are closed, his features shrunken and his skin extremely pale, with a greyish tint. A girl with auburn hair is also lying under the blankets next to the man, her face pressed against the side of his head. The only other part of her that is visible is her bare left shoulder and arm, the latter placed protectively over the coarse sheets that cover his chest. The man in the bed is clearly dead, but the rider goes through the motions of touching the side of his neck and trying to detect a pulse. Her search merely confirms what her eyes have already told her. Straightening, the woman addresses the man's companion;  
"Your man is dead." She declares emotionlessly. "Two days gone. But you already knew that."  
The girl makes a quiet noise that is half-whimper, half-sob. She slowly lifts her head – the first movement we've seen from her – and looks at the cloaked woman. It's Ella. Tracks of dried tears mark both cheeks of her distraught face.  
"No." Ella chokes hopelessly.  
"Do you know who I am?" The woman asks firmly, ignoring Ella's self-denial.  
The tone in her voice partly snaps Ella out of her grief. The Anointed One gazes at the cloaked woman for several seconds, trying to focus her thoughts through a fog of despair, before nodding;  
"Yes." She murmurs distractedly, "My father told me about you. You're Madeline Thawn."  
The blonde woman nods formally;  
"That is the name by which he knew me." She confirms. "I am the Anointed One who taught your father. And what he learnt from me, he passed onto you."  
Madeline glances at the corpse that Ella still protectively has her arm across.  
"Your lover?" The older woman remarks.  
Ella looks at the body beside her. Her eyes glisten, and her mouth slowly forms into a saddened smile.  
"My husband." She whispers. "We played together as children. Grew up side-by-side. He stood by me, stayed with me, even after I was Anointed. He was my first… and I was his. First and only."  
Madeline is walking around the bed, seemingly not paying much attention to Ella's sorrowful reminiscing, instead glancing at the cottage's few contents. She spies a simple wooden cross nailed to the wall.  
"He was a Christian?" Madeline queries.  
Shaken out of her memories, Ella looks across at the elder Anointed One and nods;  
"Yes." She says simply.  
"Then I suppose it falls to us to follow the traditions of his faith." Madeline declares.  
Ella gazes at her, still too numb and confused to comprehend what the older woman is saying. Madeline bends down slightly so she can look Ella in the eye.  
"We must dig a hole in the ground, child." The blonde woman says patiently, as though talking to an infant. "And put him in it."

Cut to a close-up of Ella in the present, gazing thoughtfully from behind glass, her expression unreadable. The camera pulls back to reveal she's in the back seat of the Corsa, looking out though the rear side window. Leon is sitting next to her, one arm round her shoulders, his face resting amongst her hair. The camera cuts to inside the car.  
"We might not make it out this time." Ella suddenly announces.  
Her voice is sad but calm. She is simply stating a fact. Leon moves his head back slightly and looks at her, his face as expressionless as hers, as – still looking out into the night - she continues;  
"The odds are stacked high against us. Rachel effectively has a small, well trained army at her deposal. And they know the layout of the buildings and the grounds. Even with Thelma guiding us…" Her voice tails off.  
Leon pauses for several seconds, clearly thinking carefully about what he's about to say. Then he speaks;  
"Even if tonight is it," he intones, as Ella turns her head to look at him, "even if it goes all Butch and Sundance on us," - his remark makes Ella smile, just as he'd hoped – "even when the bullets start flying, there is absolutely no place I'd rather be tonight than here, with you. By your side."  
The lovers regard each other.  
"I'm sorry Leon." Ella murmurs. "I want you to know that."  
He smiles and shrugs.  
"Don't be. I knew what I was signing up for. I could have walked away at any time during the last six years. Some things are bigger than any of us. And they're worth fighting for." He declares.  
"Worth dying for?" Ella asks, taking hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze. "You're so young, Leon. You're got decades ahead of you. This is my fight, my war. And I dragged you into it."  
He shushes her with a quick, gentle kiss. Pulling back, her gazes into her eyes;  
"Have you listened to a word I've said?" He gently chides her, grinning. "Have many times have we had this conversation? Are all immortals this stubborn? It's my life to live, and mine to give, if necessary. Now, shut up and kiss me."  
Ella smiles and the two of them kiss, first softly, then with slowly increasing urgency. Ella's hand snakes down to Leon's groin, finds the bulge, and starts rubbing it firmly and deliberately through the denim of his jeans. Surprised, he breaks off the kiss and sees her grinning wickedly at him.  
"Do we have time?" He cautions.  
"We'll make time." She declares mischievously.

Cut to Thelma, making her way through a wide, well lit corridor within Rachel's mansion. In addition to the jangling toolbelt, she's now also weighted down by a bulky satchel that she acquired in the armoury. Two of Rachel's guards approaches, coming in the opposite direction. Thelma grants them a beaming smile;  
"Don't mind me," she cheerful exclaims, "I'm just looking for a cake to jump out of."  
Unable to see or hear her, the guards simply pass by. Spotting an air vent at shoulder-height in the wall, Thelma places the satchel on the floor, studies the screws holding the vent cover in place, produces a battery-powered screwdriver from her toolbelt, then selects and fits the relevantly sized head. Reaching up, she swiftly unscrews each screw in turn, the screwdriver whirring away. Having placed the screws in a pocket on the belt, she carefully lifts the cover away from the vent and leans it against the wall at her feet. Reaching into the satchel, she produces a block of plastic explosive about two-thirds the size of a house-brick, with a detonator and radio-receiver both wired in and firmly attached by having black electrician's tape wrapped round them and the explosive several times. Thelma flicks a metal spoke switch on the detonator, causing a tiny red light to come on. It's armed. The ghost places the device inside the vent, and gives it a reassuring pat.  
"I've raised you well, youngster." She murmurs ruefully. "Do me proud."  
Then she puts the vent cover back in place, and starts replacing the first of the screws.

Cut to the circle of standing stones within the grounds. To illuminate the interior of the circle, Rachel's men have set up an outer parameter of arc lights on simple metal stands, the cables all leading back to the generator on the trailer. Still gagged, Amber Chase stands between two tall metal poles impaled into the ground, her arms and legs outstretched, her wrists and ankles tied to the poles with strong, taut wire. Her eyes are wide and frightened, and she is still making muffled wailing sounds through the gag, to which no-one is paying attention. Standing ten feet directly in front of Amber, Malachi and Alex are going through the print outs of the ritual that Alex obtained from Jo's computer. Malachi's forehead is furrowed, and he looks puzzled. Rachel approaches.  
"Problem?" The lady of the manor enquires.  
"Nothing that concerns you." Bristles Alex.  
"This page is taken directly from a scan." Explains Malachi, ignoring his wife's knee-jerk reaction and studying the relevant page intently. "It's written in an arcane language that I don't recognise."  
"May I?" Rachel offers, extending a hand. "When war broke out across Europe in '39, I decamped to my little hideaway in Chile, and took most of my library with me. Kept myself amused for eight years by familiarising myself with over a dozen dead languages."  
Malachi half-shrugs and hands the page to her. Rachel looks at it for a moment, then makes a show of slowly turning it the other way round.  
"That's better." She breezes. "Yes, I can translate this."  
Malachi shakes his head;  
"That part of the ritual has to be performed in the original language." He says.  
"Then I'll tell you how to pronounce each word, and you'll have to recite it parrot-fashion." Rachel replies.  
"You're a useful woman to have around." Malachi remarks, raising an eyebrow.  
Rachel smiles and deliberately catches Alex's eye as she replies;  
"I aim to please. You'll soon discover I have many skills." She purrs.

Cut to the cramped interior of the Corsa. Knees bent and jutting upwards, his jeans and boxers crumpled around his ankles, Leon lays on the backseat with an increasingly noisy Ella straddling him, the two of them ignoring the discomfort and restrictions imposed by the confined space. Ella's cries rapidly become more shrill and higher pitched as she approaches her peak, until she screams out that she loves him, then grabs the head-rest of the driver's seat with one hand to steady herself as the intensity of her climax overwhelms her. Underneath, his face flushed and eyes clenched shut, Leon's contorted expression and anguished wailing matches hers. After several seconds, Ella's yelps die down to a subdued whimper, and her breathing slowly begins to return to normal. She blinks, then gazes at Leon as though she had momentarily forgotten he was there, before leaning down and gently kissing him on the lips. Reaching up, he runs his hand through the fringe that hangs over her forehead.  
"I love you too." He murmurs.  
Almost silently, the lovers awkwardly detangle from each other. Limbs are squeezed pass each other's bodies, clothes clumsily readjusted, zips and buttons refastened. A ring tone suddenly blares into life. Ella reaches over to her long leather coat, which is lying in a heap on the driver's seat, and searches through the pockets, eventually pulling out her mobile. The display reads that it's a call from Thelma.  
"Yes?" Ella speaks into the phone.  
"I've established the cells are under the west wing." We hear Thelma's voice say. "Initial diversion in two minutes. Contact me when you need the secondary diversion."  
"Understood." Confirms Ella, ending the call then looking at Leon: "Two minutes." She tells him.

Cut to Thelma, inside a maintenance cupboard within the mansion, stood in front of a large junction box, having already prised the cover off. On the floor by her feet is the satchel she was carrying earlier, which is now clearly empty. Tracing a finger across the mass of multi-coloured cables before her, the ghost finds the particular group of bunched-together cables she's looking for, and pulls a hefty pair of pliers out of the toolbelt. Opening the jaws of the pliers and placing them around the grouping, she pauses and checks her watch, then nods to herself.  
"Thank you and goodnight." She mutters, grasping the pliers with both hands, closing them and slicing through the cables.

Cut to Ella and Leon, crouched on top of the outer wall of the estate. They watch as in the distance all the lights on the side of the mansion facing them suddenly go out.  
"Go." Breathes Ella, and both of them jump from the wall, dropping down into the darkness of the grounds.

Cut to back inside the mansion. Thelma bursts out of the maintenance cupboard, and sprints down a now-darkened corridor, toolbelt jangling.

Cut to the stone circle. Rachel's mobile goes off. Mildly irritated by the interruption she answers it, a look of slight annoyance marring her features. As she listens to the caller, that look shifts almost unnoticeably to one of subdued concern.  
"Thank you." She states flatly, ending the call and noticing Alex looking at her with interest.  
"Trouble in paradise?" The succubus asks with an arched eyebrow.  
The lady of the manor does not rise to the bait.  
"A slight problem back at the house. I need to pop back and make sure it's dealt with." Rachel declares with a smile.  
She looks enquiringly at Malachi;  
"Do you need any further assistance from me or my men?" She asks  
Malachi looks up from the slim collection of papers he's holding, which are now covered in handwritten notes.  
"Everything's in hand, thanks. I can take it from here." He murmurs.  
Rachel acknowledges this with a nod, then turns back to one of the 4x4s, gesturing for her employees to follow her. She, her men and Kessel climb into two of the vehicles, which then start up, reverse and manoeuvre round, and head back in the direction of the mansion. Malachi, Shannon and Alex – the later wearing a smug expression - stand and watch them go.  
"What's that all about?" Muses Malachi.  
The night is reaching it's end. In an hour the sun will rise. The sky is slowly switching from darkness to twilight. With her single eye, Shannon stands looking out through the gloom, to where she knows Rachel's mansion stands.  
"It's Ella Dee." She declares.

Cut back to 1613. Her face pale and unreadable, Ella stands on the gently sloping hillside next to a freshly dug grave, a hundred yards from the small stone cottage that she shared with her husband. She's wearing a dark brown cloak and is holding it close around herself. The sky is a bland grey and rain is falling in a constant but light drizzle. Madeline Thawn approaches, holding in her arms the body of Ella's husband, one of the course blankets from the bed wrapped round him, completely covering the corpse and acting as a makeshift shroud. The elder Anointed One walks around the pile of darkened earth and comes to a halt at the side of the grave, standing directly opposite Ella, the damp, muddy hole yawning open between them.  
"What was his name?" Asks Madeline.  
"Henry." Replies Ella softly, glazing sadly at the cumbersome bundle in the blonde woman's arms.  
Madeline accepts this information with a slight nod, then straightens slightly and gazes at a point just above Ella's head.  
"We are gathered today to remember our brother Henry, and to return him to the earth from whence we all came." She announces.  
Then she simply drops the body into the grave.

Cut back to the present. Rachel is sitting in the passenger seat of the leading 4x4, with Kessel driving. The vehicle bounces and judders ever so slightly as it speeds over an uneven patch of terrain. The immortal puts a wireless ear-piece into place.  
"Report." She says sharply.  
Cut to the CCTV control room in the mansion. Wearing a similar ear-piece, the security guard is sitting in front of a three-tier bank of screens. Two-thirds of the middle tier are blank.  
"We'll lost power to the entire west wing and surrounding gardens." He declares. "The back-up generator immediately kicked in for the internal systems." He declares.  
"And the external systems?" Queries Rachel.  
"They should be back on line in another -" the guard glances at his watch: "ninety seconds."  
"Get everyone who's available to the west gardens." Rachel orders. "Leave only skeleton patrols elsewhere."

Cut to Midge, sitting on the floor in her cell, her left side facing towards the door. Her back is against the wall, both feet placed firmly on the floor, legs together, with her head leaning forward so her forehead rests on her knees. Despite both the less-than-comfortable position and her decision to ignore the bed, she's in danger of drifting off fitfully to sleep. The anxiety of her situation has been replaced by sheer exhaustion.  
"Hey." A voice calls out softly.  
Midge stirs slightly, but she doesn't look up.  
"Hey! Candygram for Midge!" The voice tries again, slightly louder.  
The young girl raises her head and looks squinting towards the barred window in the door – where Thelma's rueful but grinning face can be seen.

Cut to Ella and Leon running thorough the gardens towards the west wing of the mansion. Ahead, several men come into view, running quickly but calmly around the corner of the building. Ella and Leon immediately crouch down behind a waist-high hedge, and watch as the men stop running and spread out, making their way cautiously inbetween the regimented rows of flowerbeds, keeping in sight of each other at all times and carefully looking for any sign of intruders.  
"They're good." Murmurs Ella quietly.  
She reaches for her mobile.

Cut to the cells under the west wing. Now very awake, Midge is standing pressed against the door of her cell, facing Thelma through the bars.  
"What are you doing here?" The young girl gushes to the ghost.  
Beyond Thelma, we can see a couple of the other captives peering through the bars on their windows, angling themselves so they can see the corridor directly in front of Midge's door. Understandably, they look confused: Midge appears to be talking with enthusiasm to herself.  
"It's called a rescue." Thelma chirps. "Ella and Leon are on their way."  
As if on cue, the ghost's mobile rings. But as she goes to take the call, Midge interrupts;  
"Thelma, did you know? About me being descended from the McBains?" She asks urgently.  
Thelma can't help glancing in a guilty manner at the girl, before holding up her index finger to indicate that she needs a moment.  
"Here." Thelma reports into the phone.  
"We need the secondary diversion Thelma." Ella's voice declares. "Twenty seconds."  
"Understood." The ghost acknowledges, then adds "I'm in the cells and I've found Midge. She's here with me now."  
"Is she okay?" Ella asks.  
"Are you okay?" Thelma says to Midge, and the young girl nods. "Yeah, she's fine." The ghost reports.  
There's a noticeable pause on the other end of the phone.  
"Has she asked… has she said anything about why she was snatched?" Ella murmurs.  
Thelma risks another guilty, self-conscious glance at Midge.  
"Yes." The ghost says simply.  
Another pause.  
"Tell her the truth, Thelma. All of it. Tell her everything. She deserves to know." Ella states. "Tell her it was my idea. Tell her… tell her it's all my fault."  
The call ends. Thelma tucks the phone away, then pulls a small, hand-held radio transmitter from the toolbelt.  
"What's that?" Midge enquires.  
"This," the ghost murmurs, glancing at the transmitter and then at her watch, "is the result of never having to sleep, spending too many nights looking at morally dubious websites about urban-terrorism and explosives, then taking notes." She looks at Midge and grins. "When I managed to tear myself away from live interactive girl-girl, that is. Vicki Valentine and Natalie Heck. Yum."  
Another look at her watch, then Thelma presses a sequence using the numbered buttons on the transmitter.  
"Let's get this party started." She murmurs ruefully, pressing the final number.

Cut to a quickly-edited montage of several of the explosive packages that Thelma has placed around the mansion detonating. We see windows being blown outwards, doors either ripped off their hinges or exploding into large fragments, pieces of furniture and debris tumbling through the air, members of Rachel's staff being blown off their feet, ceilings collapsing, corridors suddenly filled with billowing clouds and rubble, etc.

Cut to the gardens in front of the west wing. Although spread out, the guards react to the noise of the explosions by simultaneously turning, exchanging a quiet glance with those closest to them, then all running back, disappearing round the corner of the wing and heading towards the main body of the house. Ella taps Leon on the arm.  
"Go." She breathes, and the two of them emerge from behind the hedge and sprint towards the facing wall of the mansion.

Cut to the roof of the building, as a compact radio mast and the chinney stack to which it was attached are both blown asunder by another of Thelma's packages. We cut immediately to Rachel in the 4x4;  
"Report. Report!" She barks, but receives no reply – the signal is dead.  
The immortal removes the earpiece and angrily tosses it behind her, towards the backseat. She glances to Kassel;  
"Floor it." She commands.

Cut to the cells underneath the mansion. Midge and the other captive girls gaze either nervously or with wonder at the ceiling, as the brief rumble of the blasts is heard, accompanied by a slight tremor that causes the lights to blink and flicker. Thelma places the transmitter back in her toolbelt, then produces a compact but powerful cordless drill and bends down to apply it to the lock on Midge's cell door. Glancing up at Midge, the ghost's face is now serious;  
"Time to get you out." She states. "Then I have something to tell you."

Cut to the stone circle. Malachi, Alex and Shannon stand looking in the direction of the mansion as the distant thud of the explosions reaches them.  
"Definitely Ella." Alex remarks with a nod.  
"Take the vehicle and go back to the house." Malachi commands his wife, indicating the sole remaining 4x4. "Get the 'copter airborne, then come and pick me up here." He looks at the other succubus: "Shannon, go with her. Protect her."  
"Understood." Shannon acknowledges.  
"Are you sure you don't need help performing the ritual?" Alex cautions, but her husband shakes his head.  
"Thanks to Rachel, it all seems pretty straightforward. The only thing left to do is actually recite the incantation, and that's a one person job. I'll be fine. Go."  
Alex nods, then she and Shannon turn and stride towards the 4x4. As they leave the circle and – a few seconds later - open the doors of the vehicle and climb inside, Malachi casually saunters over towards the trussed-up Amber Hunt, smiling smugly.  
"Alone at last." He declares leeringly.

Cut back to 1613. Two horses stand tethered outside the cramped stone cottage. Madeline Thawn is checking the contents of a bulging leather bag that hangs against one of the animals' flanks. Ella emerges from the hamlet, dressed for travel, and closes the door behind her. There's a clear sense of finality in this act – she's leaving this place for the last time.  
"You have everything you need?" Madeline asks, and the younger Anointed One replies with a nod.  
As Ella walks around to the other horse and untethers it, she looks cautiously at the other woman, as though gauging whether to say something. Stroking her horse, Madeline smiles. Although not looking at Ella, she can feel the girl's gaze.  
"Speak." She says simply, making it sound more like an order instead of a request.  
Ella pauses, then responds;  
"When we buried my husband… the tone in your voice... the way you behaved. You seemed scornful of the ceremony." She murmurs.  
"I am." Madeline replies firmly. "Though I meant your husband no disrespect."  
"But how can you have so little regard for the rites of Christian burial?" Ella queries, a note of genuine confusion in her voice. "Surely we, more than anyone, should respect and hold sacred the teachings of the Church."  
The blonde woman regards her fellow Anointed One, not unkindly, but with an air of amusement.  
"It matters not to God how He is worshipped." Madeline states simply. "Men could show their love of the Creator by smearing their bottoms with sheep-guts and pointing them at the sun, and as long as their faith was sincere, God would welcome it."  
Taken aback, Ella glances at Madeline in disbelief;  
"Surely not?" The auburn-haired girl protests.  
In reply, the elder Anointed One climbs into the saddle on her horse, and motions for Ella to do the same. Once they are both securely seated on their respective steeds, Madeline looks across at her fellow immortal;  
"Child, I have stood witness as entire empires, each secure in their belief of their own secular gods and monsters, have risen, fallen, and turned to dust. Men have always placed the utmost importance in how they worship their chosen deities, but truth is that God doesn't care about the nature of the ritual. That is the difference between us and the rest of humanity, and why I often envy them. To them, God is a mystery, and so they have the luxury of choosing to believe in Him. That is denied us. We know that He exists."  
Ella stays silent, contemplating what the blonde woman has said. The Anointed Two slowly ride off, pausing as they reach the grave of Ella's husband. As the auburn-haired immortal sadly looks down at the simple wooden cross that marks the grave, Madeline moves her horse to stand directly alongside her companion's, then reaches over and places a comforting hand on Ella's shoulder.  
"It may seem to you now that you will never love again." The blonde immortal speaks sagely. "But time does heal. And we have more time than others. I promise you Ella," (Ella turns to look at Madeline in slight surprise, as this is the first time the elder Anointed One has called her by name) "you will know love again. And all the grief and heartache it brings. That is God's gift to us."  
"You make it sounds like a curse." Ella murmurs plaintively, and Madeline smiles;  
"He is a jealous God." The blonde woman declares. "We should expect no less."

Cut back to the present. We are inside a spacious and luxurious shower cubicle, in one of the luxurious executive bathrooms within the London headquarters of the New Church. Corvide and Monika stand naked under the jet of water, soaping and cleaning each other. The former succubus has undergone a transformation: her skin has become deathly, unnaturally pale – almost a pure white – and in contrast the blood flowing through her system has darkened so thoroughly that it is no longer red, or even crimson, but undeniably black in colour. As a result, her skin has effectively been rendered transparent, with the body's entire network of veins, arteries and capillaries all clearly visible underneath. It is as though someone has used her as a canvass on which to paint an elaborate, intricate and extremely complex cobweb design in blackest ink. No part of her body is unaffected: her back, buttocks, stomach, breasts, all four limbs down to the extremities, her neck, and her attractive but hardened face – the dark patterns even creep under her hair-line. In addition, Monika's eyes are now both heavily bloodshot, black tendrils almost swamping the white of her pupils.  
Corvide turns off the shower and the two women emerge from the cubicle. Picking up a pair of large, dark green towels, the Lilin hands one to her newborn offspring, and both unhurriedly dry themselves.  
"There was a time when my kind licked their young clean," Corvide comments conversationally "and fed them by regurgitating food into their mouths. Then came the humans, with their progress and their civilization, which we adopted in order to move amongst them. But those days will come again."  
There is a click of high heels on the tiled floor as Jo enters, wearing a short-skirted and long sleeved black dress. Corvide and Monika turn expectedly towards her, unashamed of their nakedness.  
"All that blood and gristle washed away? Excellent." Jo announces. "Now, once you get dressed, I think it's time to show Monika the task for which she was created."

Cut to the inside of the sub-zero room containing the cryogenic chamber that is located on the lowest of the New Church headquarters' subterranean levels. The massive vault door slowly opens with it's distinctive metallic groan, dwarfing Jo, Corvide and Monika as they walk into the room's misty interior. Corvide and Monika – the latter gazing around the room with interest, as it's the first time she'd seen it – are both mostly concealed within thick protective padded coats and gloves, while Jo is still just wearing her short black dress. The ex-teacher walks round to the right-hand side of the raised cryogenic chamber, while Corvide moves to the left with Monika following, so that the horizontal coffin-like container is between them and Jo.  
"This is one of my most prized possessions, Monika." Announces Jo, indicating the frost-covered cylinder with a gesture of her hand. "What is contained within this casket is most precious to me. And I am placing it solely in your care. You are to guard this room and it's contents with your life. It is of the upmost importance that no one – especially Malachi and his succubus and incubi – interferes with the workings of this chamber. You are to use any means necessary to protect it, including lethal force. Do you understand and accept this assignment?"  
Monika nods;  
"Yes." The hybrid readily agrees.  
"Good." Declares Jo with an acknowledging smile. "Normally, a task such as this would be handled by Corvide or myself, but Corvide has another vital duty to perform, while I am expecting a very important guest who needs to be..." She pauses, her slight smile growing more satisfied: "Entertained. But I am fully confident of your ability to protect this chamber, Monika. I wouldn't have assigned you this task otherwise."  
The ex-teacher waves her hand over the display panel and window on top of the metal casket. As she does so, the thick frost covering them instantly melts and evaporates. The display panel reads 12:11:34. 12:11:33. 12:11:32.  
"In a little over twelve hours, the contents will be fully thawed. You are to remain in this room until that occurs. The meal you have just consumed will more than sustain you until then." Jo remarks.  
The ex-teacher then regards Monika thoughtfully for a moment, and taps the casket's window with her forefinger;  
"Care to see precisely what it is I'm entrusting you with?" She offers.  
Stepping right up next to the chamber, Monika leans down and gazes through the window. After a couple of seconds the hybrid's eyes widen and her head moves a couple of inches back in surprise. She glances up at Jo;  
"But – isn't that –" The former succubus blusters.  
"Yes." Jo smiles triumphantly. "Yes it is."

Cut to Ella and Leon walking quickly down a darkened flight of granite steps, damp stone walls on either side and a heavy-looking oak door waiting at the bottom. Ella is holding her mobile to the side of her head.  
"Okay, we're here." The Anointed One declares. "Good work guiding us in, Thelma."  
She ends the call, tucks the phone away, and – reaching the door – turns the wrought iron handle and opens it. With Leon at her heel, Ella steps through into the corridor along which the cells are contained. Standing facing each other by the open door of a now-vacant cell, Midge and Thelma both turn their heads to look at the Anointed One and her lover as they enter. Ella stops in her tracks and Leon nearly walks into her. Midge's face is a taut, unreadable mask, but a jumble of emotions - hurt, anger, shock, grief and betrayal – flare in her eyes. The young girl's fists are both tightly clenched by her sides, and at the sight of Ella an almost suppressed but noticeable trembling runs the length of her arms. Ella glances at Thelma, and the shame-faced ghost merely nods, somewhat apprehensively. The red-haired immortal nods in acknowledgement, then – without turning to look at him – speaks to Leon;  
"Leon, help Thelma release the other girls. Try to keep them calm. Tell them we've come to get them out of here." She says.  
Notably avoiding Midge's gaze, Leon keeps his eyes firmly towards the floor as he steps past Ella and joins Thelma, the two of them clearly relieved to have a task with which they can busy themselves.  
Knowing that she deserves whatever is about to happen, Ella slowly walks up to Midge. The two women silently look at each other for several seconds.  
"If it was just not telling me about being a McBain," Midge finally murmurs, her voice superficially calm and controlled, but tense, with subdued anger heavy in every word, "then I could understand, I could –"  
The young girl pauses. The words are hard.  
"- forgive you." She manages. "But after what Thelma's just told me, the rest of – me, the others - what you did –"  
Too much hurt, too much information, too many words jumbled together, trying to escape all at once. Midge's cold, bitter rage takes over, seeking a more direct outlet. She throws her arm back. It's the most clearly telegraphed punch that Ella has ever seen, but instead of side-stepping, or ducking, or blocking, or taking any action to defend/protect herself or avoid the blow, the Anointed One just stands there and takes it.  
The blow hits Ella square on the chin, accompanied by a yell of hurt, anger, exertion and frustration from Midge. Considering it's the first punch that she's thrown in her life, it's an impressive effort. Her head knocked back, Ella stumbles a couple of steps backward, almost regains her balance, then one of her feet trips over the other and she lands on her backside.

Final scene: Jo's quarters within the London headquarters of the New Church. The ex-teacher enters her darkened bedroom, and switches the light on with a glance.  
"Leave it off." Commands a man's voice from somewhere in the room.  
The voice is warm, refined, but contains an edge of weariness. If Jo is surprised or perturbed by the revelation that she's not alone, she shows no sign. Instead she looks quietly pleased, a satisfied smile crossing her features as she turns off the light with a slight nod. The ex-teacher then walks across to the centre of room, and simply stands in the cool darkness with her arms by her sides, waiting. She does not have to wait long. A pair of hands with long, elegent fingers emerge from the inky blackness, calmly unzipping the back of her dress with smooth, unhurried confidence, before reaching up, taking gentle but firm hold of the separate rear halves of the outfit and pulling them across and down, past her pale shoulders. The man gracefully peels the garment off further, exposing her full, firm breasts, smooth back, her flat, taut stomach, and slim hips. Finally he releases the dress, which slides down her long flawless legs to gather around her stilettoed feet.  
"No underwear, I see." The man comments dryly. "So you knew I was coming."  
"Of course, my love." Jo declares warmly, still with her back to him.  
Stepping out of the dress, she turns to gaze at her guest, who is wearing a simple and ever-so-slightly crumpled black suit, with an open-necked white shirt and no tie. Naked before him and positively purring with pleasure, Jo closes the space between them, pressing her body against his as she wraps her arms around his neck.  
"Azazeal." She greets him, her face lit up with a truly contented smile. "At last."

On-screen caption: To Be Continued.


	13. Second Sun

**Episode #13: Second Sun.**

Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode #11 – Rachel declaring "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rachel McBain."; Malachi murmuring "You have the five remaining female descendents of your brother?"; Rachel sweeping her arm towards the cell doors and announcing "All present and correct." Malachi pointing at Amber and declaring "She's the only one I want/Part of my lifeforce resides in her." Rachel saying "I know a place that I'm sure will meet your requirements."  
A clip from Episode #12 - Malachi sauntering up to a trussed-up Amber Hunt.  
Brief clips from Episode #11 – Jo saying to Perie "I've promised Roxanne that I don't intend to have Ella or Leon killed." Perie asking "What are my instructions regarding anyone else in the vicinity?" Jo smiling and replying "Have fun."; Thelma standing in the armoury, boxes of weapons open on either side, revealing their contents. Ella talking into her mobile, asking "Munitions?" and Thelma replying "Enough to start a small war."  
Brief clips from Episode #12 - Thelma pressing a numbered button on the transmitter; A montage of explosions occurring throughout the mansion; A naked Jo wrapping her arms around Azazeal's neck and declaring "Azazeal. At last."

On-screen caption: Fifteen minutes ago.  
We see the eastern side of Rachel McBain's mansion. Numerous fires, varying in size, have broken out throughout the building following the series of explosions set by Thelma. Some of Rachel's men are breaking off into small teams, improvising and trying to cope with some of the individual blazes, but there's nobody in over-all charge with any interlinked plan or strategy. There's never been any training or preparation for this contingency, because it was never perceived that anything like this – somebody simply bypassing all the mansion's alarm systems, motion sensors, CCTV surveillance and manned patrols, then planting bombs without interruption all over the building – could ever happen.  
The two 4x4s containing Rachel, Kessel and the men who accompanied them to the standing stones, approach the series of large garage doors that serve as the entrances to the mansion's automotive storage and maintenance area, housing not only the vehicles used around the estate and Rachel's small fleet of limousines, but also her exotic and expensive car collection. This includes quite a few oddities, such as three-wheelers and bubble cars.  
The 4x4s weave around several employees who are running to and thro, either rushing to help fight one of the fires, or carrying priceless heirlooms and works of art out of the building, saving them from the flames. The two vehicles come to halt outside the garage doors, and Rachel, Kessel, and the others disembark, and gaze about at all the activity, all trying to survey the situation. The lady of the house spots an employee emerging from a door at the rear of the mansion's central building, and briskly walks towards him, calling out his name over all the surrounding noise;  
"Peppard." She hails him. "Damage report."  
"At least a dozen fires in the east and south wings, and the south-facing side of the main building." Peppard replies, straightening slightly in Rachel's presence as she reaches him. "We're fighting them as best we can, but there's simply too many, too far apart. And floors and ceilings have collapsed, blocking corridors or making them unsafe, so we can't reach some of the fires. We're simply trying to prevent them spreading further."  
"Very good. Carry on." Rachel nods, then turns to Kessel. "I'm going to try to get to the control room. If part of the CCTV network is still working, I'll be able to co-ordinate things better there. The radio system's down, so we'll have to rely on mobiles for communication. Spread the word to as many as you can. Phones switched on and left on. If I call, they answer."  
Kessel nods, and turns to obey, but pauses when she feels Rachel's hand on her shoulder. She turns back to face her employer, and Rachel steps up close to her, leaning in and resting her forehead against the German girl's, both of them closing their eyes, as though breathing in each other's essence, a centre of calm amongst all the chaos. The lady of the manor reaches up and places her hand on the side of the blonde girl's face.  
"Be careful." Rachel breathes. "You're more than an employee to me."  
Then she steps away. Both women open their eyes, gaze at one another with a look that leaves nothing unsaid, then turn and walk briskly away without another glance, both now fully occupied with their separate tasks.

On-screen caption: Ten minutes ago.  
The inside of Midge's cell, underneath the west wing of the mansion. Midge is standing a few feet back from the door as we hear the harsh, angry sound of a drill. Suddenly the drill bit emerges through the lock, the noise immediately becoming a shrill whine as the drill spins in free air, before being switched off. The drill bit vanishes as it's pulled back out of the lock, and a couple of seconds later the door is pulled open. Thelma stands slightly to one side in the threshold, her toolbelt weighed down with various compact but still cumbersome items.  
"You said you had something to tell me." Midge murmurs apprehensively, making no move to leave the cell.  
A serious-faced Thelma just nods.  
"Yes. Yes I do." The ghost intones simply. "Come out, and I'll fill you in."

Cut to Jo's darkened office within the London headquarters of the New Church. Corvide enters, wearing her usual black short-skirted business suit and carrying a large mug in her hand. She doesn't put the light on, but instead walks over to Jo's desk and places the mug on a coaster. Taking off her suit jacket, the Lilin drapes it over Jo's high-backed leather chair, and sits down. She takes a sip from the mug, which bears the slogan _'That's MISS Bitch to you!_' This leaves a line of blood on her upper lip, and she runs her tongue over it, licking it clean. Stretching her arms, Corvide kicks off her high-heeled shoes and flexes her toes, making herself comfortable. She's clearly going to be here sometime.

Cut to the cellar under the west wing. Midge is standing directly in front of Thelma. To the left, further back, we can see a couple of the other kidnapped girls straining to peer at Midge through the bars in their cell windows, trying to work out who Midge is talking to.  
"You have to understand that failing to stop Malachi's conception and birth – it really affected Ella." Thelma murmurs, the apologetic tone in her voice and the gesturing of her hands indicating that she's working up to something that she knows Midge is going to take badly, and is attempting – rather transparently – to defuse it's impact. "It was her sacred duty, something she'd carried out for over four hundred years - her entire reason for living. And then she screwed up."  
The ghost pauses before continuing;  
"And with everything that's happened since - all the students at Medenham becoming succubus and incubi, all the people Malachi has killed directly, the millions brainwashed and defrauded by the New Church. All the thousands killed in the wars and strife caused by Malachi's presence on Earth. Families torn apart, worldwide upheaval… Maya… It's weighted on Ella heavily. She'd had the guilt of the world on her shoulders."  
"Thelma," Midge says, feeling nervous because Thelma's clearly nervous, "what are you trying to tell me?"  
The ghost looks the girl in the eye.  
"Ella vowed that it would never happen again." Thelma states firmly. "If she managed to stop Malachi, kill him, prevent the End of Days, she was determined that there would be no chance of another Messiah of the Fallen Angels ever being born."  
Midge stares at the ghost for a second, the implication of these words registering. She glances at the other cell doors, then looks at Thelma.  
"She was going to kill us?" Midge asks plaintively.  
"No. No." Thelma says quickly, shaking her head. "There's a spell. Ella had never been able to use it before, because a very rare ingredient was needed. The ashes of a slain Nephilim. Azazeal had been the only Nephilim to walk the Earth, and he'd always managed to stay one step ahead of Ella. But Malachi's birth enabled other Nephilim to rise from Hell. Ella killed three while at Medenham, but the first died on the lawn and the second in the orchard, both out in the open. There were people nearby, and so Ella didn't have a chance to stay and collect the ashes. By the following morning, they had blown away in the breeze."  
Thelma pauses.  
"But the third Nephilim died in the disused swimming pool under the school." She says. "Ella collected the ashes and kept them safe. Then, when Peggy located the last remaining McBain descendents – you and the other girls – Ella used the ashes to perform the ritual needed to invoke the spell. She performed it five times, at night, outside each of the houses where you and the others lived, while you slept."  
Thelma pauses again. There's more to come. She's still holding something back. Midge shallows hard, then speaks;  
"Thelma," She says, forming her words carefully and trying to sound calm, but unable to hide the anxious edge in her voice, "what did she do?"  
"It's an infertility spell." Thelma bleats simply. "It made you all barren."  
The realisation visually hits Midge. She sways slightly and her eyes widen for a moment, then glisten with instant unshed tears at the size of the betrayal.  
"She wanted an end to the bloodline without killing anyone." Thelma continues nervously. "It was the only way."  
But Midge isn't listening anymore. Almost subconsciously, she's placed a hand on her stomach and is gazing down at it. Thelma stands in front of her, not knowing what to do and feeling more awkward, guilty and useless than she can ever remember being while still alive. The ghost's mobile rings. She looks at the call display: it reads 'Ella'. With a nervous glance at Midge, Thelma places the phone next to her face;  
"Ella?" She murmurs.  
At the sound of the name, Midge's eyes dart up and flash angrily at Thelma.

On-screen caption: Five minutes ago.  
We're in the CCTV room within Rachel's mansion. The lady of the manor is stood alongside the seated guard, the latter trying rather badly to hide his nervousness and wondering how much his employer blames him for the unfolding events. Rachel however is totally focused on those screens that are still working. She select a number on her mobile and calls it.  
"Kessel." She announces. "It's not going well. Time to deal with some loose ends, in case the fire is noticed by outsiders and the authorities notified. Get a couple of the men to the cells - tell them to take one of the four wheel drives. They're to kill the girls, drive the bodies out of the grounds, and bury them a safe distance away."  
"You're sure you want them dead?" Kessel's voice comes over the phone.  
"Malachi doesn't want them. And I don't want the inconvenience of the fire brigade discovering four kidnapped girls, followed by the extremely large fees my solictors will charge to make it all go away, plus the favours I'll have to call in to keep it out of the media." Rachel replies.  
"Understood." Kessel acknowledges.  
"Call me back with the names of the men you send. I'll contact them direct to make sure that it's been done." Rachel declares, then ends the call.

On-screen caption: Now.  
We see again the conclusion of the penultimate scene in Episode #12. Midge unleashes a punch that hits Ella square on the chin, the blow accompanied by a yell of anger, hurt, exertion and frustration. Her head thrown back by the impact, Ella stumbles a couple of steps backward, almost regains her balance, then one of her feet trips over the other and she lands flat on her backside.  
Opening titles.

The bedroom of Jo's quarters within the New Church's London headquarters. The ex-teacher's naked body stands pressed against Azazeal as they embrace, her head tilted to one side, her eyes closed as he expertly nuzzles her neck.  
"You kiss like your son." Jo breathes. "I'd almost forgotten how similar you are."  
Upon hearing this, the Nephilim moves his face away from her neck and pretends to look mildly offended.  
"I've never had a woman forget anything I've done to them." He says, in a mock-abashed tone.  
"Well," counters Jo, running a hand through his hair, "in my defence, it has been a very long time."  
"Indeed it has." The angel concedes with a smile. "Too long."  
He reaches up with his left hand, gently places the tip of his forefinger against her temple, then slowly runs his finger down the curve of her face.  
"I must say, you've done an excellent job of raising Malachi." He murmurs. "He couldn't have had a better mother."  
"Better than Cassie?" Jo asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow.  
"The Hughes girl?" Azazeal remarks, with an edge in his voice that is a cross between an amused laugh and a snort of dismissal. "An incubator for my child, nothing more. As you well know." He chides Jo.  
"Though I have to confess I did enjoy bending her to my will." He continues, gazing slightly away for a moment, voice growing softer with the memory. "It was almost a pity she didn't put up much of a fight. You though, were more of a challenge. A prize truly worth winning."  
"So it was always your intention that I raise your – our - child?" Jo probes, correcting herself mid-sentence.  
"The moment I first saw you, I knew you'd be perfect." The angel declares softly. "It all just fell into place. Cassie had served her purpose, and she clearly didn't have your… potential."  
Azazeal's finger has reached Jo's neck. He stops it's downward approach and instead cups his hand under her chin. With his other hand he firmly squeezes her left breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb in a clockwise rotation.  
"You possess certain" - he pauses, his smile growing wider - "attributes in abundance that poor misguided Cassie sadly lacked. And after Mephistopheles disgraced himself, the higher powers swiftly agreed with me."  
"I've never had the chance to thank you for entrusting me with him. For giving me motherhood." Jo declares huskily, gazing into the angel's eyes. "I couldn't have asked for a finer son. Or a more eager pupil. He's been very keen to put what I've taught him into practice."  
"So I hear." Azazeal murmurs, clearly amused, and the ex-teacher immediately catches his meaning.  
"Well, all that energy and enthusiasm bubbling away inside him needed an outlet." She defers coyly. "It would have been unhealthy to let it stay bottled up."  
"Oh, so you were thinking purely of Malachi's wellbeing?" The nephilim queries knowingly, humour in his voice.  
"I'm not saying there weren't some fringe benefits." Jo confirms with a kittenish purr. "Over the last five years, he's become very adept at pleasuring me."  
"Life does have it's little rewards." The angel comments dryly. "Speaking of which –"  
He suddenly reaches down, places an arm behind Jo's knees, then scoops her up in his arms as though she were weightless, and carries her towards the large four-poster bed with it's elaborately carved frame of blackened oak.  
"For being a mother, guardian and tutor to my son, and for a job extremely well done, I have a very big reward for you." Azazeal declares.

Cut to the cellar under the west wing. Midge is standing over Ella, who's made no attempt to get up.  
"You took away my ability to have a _child_, a _family_," Midge almost yells, her face creased in anger, both hands still cletched by her sides, "me and the others. You had _no right_."  
Still sitting, looking up at the furious girl, Ella offers no excuses, no defence. _She seems almost calm_, thinks Thelma, standing a few feet away and gazing at the two women as Leon tries to calm the girls in the cells behind her. _Of course_, the ghost realises, _she's had to shoulder far worse guilt over the centuries_. Almost as though she has read her friend's thoughts, Ella's gaze briefly leaves Midge and catches Thelma's. The immortal's head moves a couple of millimetre downwards, a barely perceptable nod in acknowledgement of her friend's support.  
"The only other alternative would have been to kill you. You and the others." Ella announces simply, giving Midge her full attention again and starting to get up, the long folds of her coat sweeping and stirring up the dust on the floor as she does so.  
"Would you rather be dead?" The Anointed One asks.  
Midge steps forward as Ella finishes straightening up, standing toe-to-toe with the auburn-haired immortal, their faces only a few inches apart.  
"It's not as simple as that." Midge insists angrily, "I -"  
"Yes. It. Is." Ella declares firmly, the tone of her voice unthreatening, but brooking no argument.  
The two women stare at each other. As bad as she felt about what had happened to Midge and keeping it secret from her, if Thelma had any money, she'd put it on Ella.  
"To you, the End of the World is just a hypothetical scenario." Ella says. "A fantasy. Something you read about in books, or watch unfold in widescreen and surround-sound in Hollywood blockbusters. It's entertaining, not _really_ scary, because it's never really going to happen, right?"  
She reaches forward and paces both hands on Midge's shoulders, her glaze never leaving the other girl's eyes;  
"To me, it's my daily reality. For four and a half centuries." Ella intones. "If I screw up, the world dies. Everybody you know - friends, family, work colleagues, aquaintances, strangers in the street. The girl who serves you in the all-night chemist. The old lady in the bus queue. The shelf shackers in Tescos. Tom Cruise. J.K. Rowling. Billions of people you'll never met. Everyone. Dead."  
In the background, Leon catches Thelma's attention and silently gestures towards the compact cordless drill in her toolbelt. Pulling the item out, she tosses it to him, he catches it, then he turns his attention to the nearest cell door.  
"Here's something else I've kept from you." Ella continues to Midge. "Ever since I became an Anointed One, at least once a week Heaven has sent me a dream of the End of Days happening. In graphic detail. I thought they might cease when I broke away and became a free agent, but they haven't. They're a constant reminder of what will happen if I fail. And an incentive that I don't."  
"She's not kidding." Thelma interjects. "I've seen it. Walked through it." (_and often held Ella's hand throughout_, she thinks to herself) "As motivational tools go, it's a doozy."  
"If having you hate me is the price I have to pay for not having to kill you, then so be it. I can live with that, Midge." States Ella, still meeting the young girl's gaze. "I've learnt to live with a lot. For a very long time."  
Leon has been busy with the drill. He has bored through one lock and is starting with another. With a final squeeze of Midge's shoulders, Ella walks over and opens the unlocked door.  
"It's okay, come out." She says to the apprehensive-looking girl inside, stepping back so not to crowd her.  
Glancing at the doors of the other cells with occupants, the Anointed One raises her voice, speaking not only to the girl just freed, but also those still to be liberated;  
"We know you're scared, we know you have questions. But there's no time for that now. We've come to get you out of here. Come with us, do as we say, and hopefully we can all get out of here safely."  
"There's only four of you." Thelma realises, glancing at the cells and then Midge. "Where's the fifth?"  
"Malachi and Rachel took her away." Says Midge. "He said something about his lifeforce being inside her. He doesn't look well."  
"This girl - Amber Chase?" Asks Ella, and Midge nods;  
"I saw them bring her in. Rachel called her Chase." She confirms.  
"Did they say where they were taking her?" Ella queries.  
Before the girl can answer, the sound of a large vehicle approaching and slowing to a halt can be heard, coming from the open door at the end of the cellar corridor. Without anything being said, Thelma pulls a hammer and a wretch from her toolbelt and marches towards the doorway.  
"I'm on it." The ghost declares. "I've got a crapload of guilt to take out on someone. Why pass up such a golden opportunity?"  
She steps through the doorway, then turns and disappears up the granite stairs, heading up to ground level.  
"Malachi wanted to perform some kind of ritual. Rachel said there was a good place in the grounds. A stone circle, south-east of the mansion." Midge continues.  
Leon has freed the last of the girls, who are clustered together in the centre of the corridor, still clearly wary of their rescuers. Ella places a hand on Midge's arm, and nods towards the captives.  
"You were locked up with them. They'll trust you. Help us keep them calm?" The Anointed One asks.  
"They've seen me apparently talking to thin air, not to mention flooring you. They probably think I'm mad." Midge counters, pointedly tensing at Ella's touch.  
"At least they know you. Me and Leon are strangers to them. At least try. Not for me, for them. Please?" Ella murmurs.  
Midge regards the immortal coolly for a few seconds, then nods and walks over to the three girls;  
"It's okay, these are friends of mine," she starts to say, as Thelma reappears in the doorway, still holding the hammer and wretch in each hand.  
"We've got two unconscious goons, and a four wheel drive with the keys in the ignition and the tank three-quarters full." The ghost reports.  
"Good work." Acknowledges Ella, then she turns to Leon: "Take the vehicle and get Midge and these girls out of here. Take them to the nearest police station. Actually, scratch that - Rachel might have the local constabulary in her pocket. But she'd want to maintain a low profile, so take them to the closest large town. Hopefully her influence won't stretch that far."  
"What about you and Thelma?" He asks.  
"We're staying." The Anointed One declares. "We have to rescue Amber Chase. Plus if Malachi performs this ritual and becomes whole, he'll be at the peak of his powers. The End of Days will be another giant step closer."  
Leon goes to say something, but Ella reaches up and places her fingertips on his mouth, stopping him.  
"No arguments Leon." She says firmly.  
He looks at her for a moment, then nods. She moves her hand away and gently kisses him.  
"Go. Now." Ella whispers.  
Leon turns and starts ushering the three kidnapped girls towards the door at the end of the corridor, taking the lead with Midge bringing up the rear. As Leon and the other girls venture up the granite stairs, Midge pauses in the doorway and looks back at Ella, then Thelma.  
"It wasn't a coincidence, you attending that seance, was it? You targeted me. You've been lying to me since the start." Midge says to the ghost.  
"Sorry." Thelma bleats, guiltily but sincerely.  
Midge gazes at both of them;  
"I know you did what you thought you had to. I understand. But once we're all safely out of here, I don't want anything more to do with you. You're to leave me alone, understood? I never want to see any of you again." She says simply and firmly, then she turns and walks up the stairs.

Cut to Jo's bedroom in the New Church's headquarters. Still gloriously naked, the ex-teacher is lying on the bed, eyes closed and sighing deeply as an equally naked Azazeal kisses her inner thighs, switching his attention from one leg to the other, slowly making his way upwards. Unable to wait any longer, Jo grabs the back of the angel's head and - laughing wickedly - shoves his face down into where her legs meet...

Cut to the eastern side of the mansion. Kessel is directing the firefighting effort on the ground as best she can. Her mobile goes off, she answers, and we hear Rachel's voice;  
"We're merely delaying the inevitable. The mansion is lost." The immortal declares simply. "Gather all the items have been removed from the house, and load them into as many vehicles from the collection as you need. Prepare to evacuate."  
"Understood." Kessel acknowledges. "Should I wait for you?"  
"No, I'll take the helicopter." Rachel replies. "The fires are nowhere near the landing pad so far, and the winds are currently blowing the smoke away from it, so taking off won't be a problem. We'll rendezvous at my Cornish estate."  
"Affirmative." Says Kessel.  
"One final matter." Rachel remarks: "I've tried to contact Abbott and Folesmill for a progress report on the disposal of our guests, but neither of them are replying. Send someone to check on them. Once that's resolved, you and the men can move out."  
"It'll be done." Kessel declares, and the call ends.

Cut to the large two-sided courtyard at the northern end of the main building, that serves as a helicopter landing pad. The 4x4 containing Shannon and Alex speeds into view, the latter at the wheel. The succubus brings the vehicle to a halt forty feet away from the helicopter that she, her husband and Shannon arrived in. The New Church's pilot is sitting in the cockpit, quickly carrying out routine pre-flight checks, having been contacted via mobile by Shannon and told to prepare for immediate take-off. Rachel's helicopter sits a safe distance away, across the pad. The two succubi exit the four wheel drive.  
"I don't want you to get on board yet. I have another task for you." Alex begins, but Shannon interupts;  
"Malachi said I was to stay with you and protect you."  
Alex smiles knowingly in response.  
"Don't worry, you'll like this assignment. I agree with you that Ella's behind this." The tawny blonde succubus nods towards the thick black smoke rising from the far side of the mansion, visible against the brightening sky. "I want you to find her. And then kill the bitch."  
Upon hearing this, Shannon's mouth forms into a wide smile, causing the barely-healed skin on both her lips to split and crack in several places. If this causes her any discomfort, she gives no sign.  
"It'll be a pleasure." The scarred girl declares. "Consider it done."  
"I'll go and collect Malachi." States Alex. "Then we'll come back for you. When you hear the 'copter, stand somewhere in the open, where we can see you."  
Shannon nods, then sprints purposefully towards the main body of the mansion. As Alex watches her go, behind her the helicopter's turbine engine starts up with a low whine and the rotors slowly begin to rotate. The succubus turns and crouches to avoid the downwash of the blades as she runs to the aircraft, opens the co-pilot's door and clambers inside.

Cut to the exterior of the west wing. Ella and Thelma stand at the top of the granite stairs leading down to the cells, as the 4x4 into which Midge and the three other girls are crammed, with Leon driving, moves off. Sitting in the front passenger seat - the side of the vehicle facing Ella and Thelma - Midge pointedly sits staring straight ahead, not looking at the two women as the vehicle leaves them behind.  
"Do you think she'll ever forgive us?" Thelma asks, but by the tone of her voice she clearly doesn't think it likely.  
"I hope not." The Anointed One replies simply. "Why should we get off the hook so lightly?"  
Both watch the 4x4 until it speeds out of sight. Thelma eventually breaks the silence;  
"Okay, that's the civilians safely out the way. I suppose this is the bit where we go rescue the girl, defeat the bad guy, and save the world." She murmurs.  
"It's what we do, Thelma." Ella confirms with a grim smile that her friend returns. "It's what we're for."  
"Car." Thelma suddenly barks, jerking her head round, having heard an approaching vehicle.  
While the ghost remains watching the direction from which the sound is coming, Ella grabs in each hand an ankle belonging to one of the guards whom Thelma rendered unconscious and whose bodies are still laid out on the ground. The immortal walks hurriedly as best she can to the stairs, dragging the limp forms of both men behind her, and disappears down the steps with her burden. A few seconds after Ella and the guards have dipped from view, the man sent by Kessel to check on the others' progress and find out why they're not answering the mobiles, drives around the corner of the building. As all the larger vehicles are being loaded with items salvaged from the mansion, the man is driving one of the oddities from Rachel's collection: a tiny Smart car.  
The very small vehicle comes a halt a few feet away from the steps, and the driver opens the door and climbs out, looking around puzzled at the lack of any life or activity.  
"And the hits just keep on coming." Remarks Thelma ruefully as she walks forward, tugging the hammer from her toolbelt and launching into a powerful double-handed swing.  
The head of the hammer strikes the guard on his right temple with a sickening thud. His left leg immediately gives way, taking the right with it, and he falls to his knees. Without hesitation the ghost hits him again across the back of the head for good measure, and he collapses face-first onto the ground.  
"Sorted." Thelma yells out to Ella, and the immortal sprints up the stairs.  
The ghost jerks her thumb at the Smart;  
"It'll be quicker to drive than walk." She suggests. "And I know a shortcut."  
"A shortcut?" Ella queries, walking to the Smart with Thelma, the two of them eventually standing either side of the vehicle. "Surely the only route is skirting round the mansion and the south wing?"  
"Who said anything about going _around_ the mansion?" Thelma grins, raising an eyebrow.  
"You mean go _through_ it?" The Anointed One says incredulously, to which the ghost nods enthusiastically.  
"But it's on fire!" Ella persists.  
"Only bits of it." Thelma offers with a shrug.  
The two of them look at each other for a moment, then turn their attention to the main building, fifty yards away, and it's large, heavy oak door.  
"Looks solid." Observes Thelma.  
Ella steps away from the Smart, and in one smooth movement she opens her coat, produces the two halves of the Volta, and snaps them together.  
"Knock knock." Thelma says, watching as a bolt of energy streaks out from her friend's staff, rips the door from it's hinges, and throws it far into the mansion.  
"All-purpose key. Opens any door. Never leave home without it." Comments Ella, disassembling the Volta.  
Then the two women open the Smart's doors and duck inside.

Cut to Jo's bedroom. The ex-teacher is underneath Azazeal, her legs wrapped tightly around him.  
"Harder!" She demands, laughing mockingly and taunting him as he thrusts into her. "HARDER!!"

Cut to the interior of the helicopter carrying Alex, as it flies at low altitude over the grounds, only three hundred feet up. Sitting next to the pilot, the succubus is intently studying the land below.  
"There." Alex declares, pointing slightly to the left.  
The pilot adjusts course accordingly, the helicopter passes over a thick line of trees, and the circle of standing stones come into view, dead ahead. Alex squints - Malachi seems to be standing very close to Amber Chase, and although everything is getting lighter as the dawn rapidly approaches, it's still slightly too dim for her to see clearly what's happening.  
"Search-light." She commands, as the helicopter reaches the circle and hovers above it.  
The pilot switches on the powerful searchlight situated under the nose of the aircraft. The beam of light is pointed straight ahead, but after a few seconds he adjusts it so that it swings down and illuminates the ground below. Alex gazes down and sees Malachi - the downdraft from the 'copter's blades violently tugging at his clothes and whipping at his hair. His body is pressed up against Amber's, his trousers and boxers round his ankles, his hands gripping her hips as he thrusts into her. Malachi looks up at the aircraft as it hovers overhead, and smiles a triumphant, savage, beaming smile, his eyes wild and gleaming... knowing that it's his wife up there, knowing how much seeing this will anger her, both of them knowing there's nothing she can do, and also both knowing that despite this, she'll remain loyal. Malachi laughs savagely, the sound drowned out by the whine of the helicopter's turbine engine. Still tied by the wrists and ankles to the two metal poles impaled in the ground, and desperately straining against those bonds, a terrified Amber also stares up at the 'copter, her frantic, pleading eyes set in a tear-stained face. Although they are rendered as inaudible as Malachi's laughter, Alex is in no doubt that the girl is issuing forth muffled screams through the gag across her mouth.  
Shocked, embarrassed and nervous, the pilot risks a brief glance at Alex, but otherwise concentrates on keeping the 'copter steady. After several seconds, the succubus speaks;  
"It seems my husband is currently... indisposed." Alex murmurs, forcing herself to sound as calm as possible, her voice terse and robotic. "Circuit around the grounds a few times. We'll collect him when he's finished."  
She almost spits the final word. Relived, the pilot rapidly banks the aircraft away. As the helicopter and the noise of it's engine both recede into the distance, a spent Malachi steps away from Amber and starts to pull up his boxers and trousers.  
"Well, that broke the ice, don't you think?" He declares with a swagger. "And now that we're better acquainted, let's get started on this ritual."

Cut to the Smart speeding through the wide central corridor of the main building, Ella driving, Thelma in the passenger seat. Thin grey smoke is spreading through the mansion from those sections that are ablaze, and Ella has put the headlights on. Hearing the sound of heavy structural timbers and joists groaning in protest behind them, Ella glances into the rear-view mirror, just in time to see a large section of the corridor ceiling - that they'd passed under seconds earlier - collapse, bringing with it the burning floor from the storey above, like the fiery top layer of a cake. Still looking in the mirror, Ella is about to tell Thelma that she's never navigating again, when –  
"Ella!" Yells Thelma, and the Anointed One's eyes dart ahead to see a fast-approaching shape appear in the misty smoke in front of them.  
Charging down the corridor and shrieking with rage, Shannon performs a running leap, throwing herself at the Smart. Ella and Thelma both cry out as the succubus lands on top of the tiny car, arms and upper body on the roof, waist and lower limbs smacking into the front of the vehicle. Her grasping, bandaged fingers find a handhold and she clings on. Taken by surprise and her view blocked by Shannon's legs, Ella veers to the right, and the Smart swipes the wall, ripping off the side mirror. The Anointed One tries to correct the vehicle's course but overcompensates, and while still speeding forward the car swerves wildly across the width of the corridor, almost colliding with the wall on the left, but Ella manages to straighten up at the last moment.  
Shannon cautiously releases her left hand, and once confident that she can still hold on with her right, she balls her left hand into a fist, and slowly moves her arm across the edge of the roof and down the side of the Smart. A split second later, Ella and Thelma again both cry out in surprise as the succubus punches the driver's side window with all the strength she can muster. The glass doesn't shatter, but it cobwebs and bends inward, two sizable shards knocked loose into the interior of the Smart: one bounces off Ella's arm and disappears into the gap down the side of the seat, the other lands in the Anointed One's lap.  
"Thelma, take the wheel." Ella barks calmly.  
As the ghost leans across and obeys, Ella reaches down as best she can and pulls her dagger out of the scabbard on her right boot, as the Smart wavers across the corridor until Thelma is able to steady it. Shannon's gauze-wrapped fist rears back and then hits the window again, impacting the glass further and causing several more shards to fly across the inside of the vehicle. As the succubus pulls her arm back to strike again, Ella points the dagger at the roof, holding it with one hand, the base of the palm of her other hand flat underneath the weapon, and pushes it upward as hard as she can. With a harsh metallic screech, the blade erupts through the top of the roof, right next to Shannon's face, thinly cutting the skin on her jaw before burying itself deep into her cheek, slicing it wide open. Shrieking in pain and anger, the succubus loses her grip on the roof and immediately her body slides down the front of the Smart. As the soles of her Doc Martins touch the floor of the corridor, and it seems she's about to be dragged under the tiny car, her right hand finds another handhold and she latches on.  
Ella and Thelma are confronted by the sight of Shannon's face pressed against the windscreen, her single eye glaring at them, blood from her gashed cheek smearing the glass. Secured by a handhold in the ridged mid-section of the roof, the succubus's body is flattened against the front of the vehicle, her knees bent in order to lift her legs clear of the floor as she's carried forward, the toes of her boots skimming the carpet. Ella takes the wheel as Thelma gazes in bemused acceptance at the she-creature clinging to the Smart as it hurtles down the smoke-filled corridor.  
"There used to be a time when I would have found this strange." The ghost muses.  
Her bloody, pock-marked face contorted in anger and determination, Shannon lifts her left arm up onto the roof, secures herself with both hands, rears her head back, then butts the windscreen. Ella and Thelma both give a start, as the glass cracks from top to bottom. Grimacing with satisfaction, the succubus releases her hold with her right hand and moves her right shoulder away from the windscreen, angling her body. She throws her right arm back, bandaged fist clenched, aiming a blow at the jagged crack in the glass. Then the car runs out of corridor and smashes dead centre into the large double doors that lead to the exterior, and Shannon yelps in pain as she's flung against the windscreen, which gives slightly. The doors were unlocked, so the impact causes them to swing violently open, one splintering along it's outer edge, the other torn from it's upper hinges, so it sways and tilters outwards when it finally comes to rest.  
While the entrance that Ella and Thelma drove the car into was level to the ground, the mansion was built on a slight incline, so the doorway on this side is three feet up, with a short set of stone steps. Barely slowed by it's collision with the doors, the Smart dips forward and bumps heavily down the steps at speed. The sudden increase in gravity – together with the added weight of Shannon clinging to the front - causes the vehicle to overbalance, and it rolls forward as it reaches the last step. The car lands on it's front, Shannon wailing as she's squashed underneath, the weakened windscreen partly giving way and shattering, with the succubus's head, shoulders and right arm forced through the resulting jagged hole in the glass. The Smart's forward momentum keeps it rolling, onto it's roof, then it's rear, until finally it collapses back onto all four wheels, it's progress spent.  
Ella and Thelma both sit looking stunned, now sharing the inside of the car with Shannon's upper body. Wedged thorough the windscreen, the succubus was dragged through all 360 degrees of the roll, her legs frailing against the outside of the vehicle, and now her head and arm hang limply, her face covered by her long black hair.  
"Well, that was interesting." Murmurs Thelma, breaking the silence.  
Almost as though on cue, Shannon's head jerks up, her right fist lashing out and passing harmlessly thorough Thelma's face, causing the ghost to yelp in surprise. Barely conscious – the attempted punch was mostly an automatic, nervous reaction as opposed to a premeditated act - the succubus looks dimly at the ghost, unable to focus. The eye patch has shifted onto her left temple, revealing an all-white eyeball, heavily bloodshot.  
"You… owe me an eye…. bitch." Slurs Shannon robotically.  
"It's in the mail." Responds Ella, punching Shannon on the chin and causing the back of the succubus's head to hit the interior of what's left of the damaged windscreen with a loud crack.  
Shannon's head falls forward again and this time she remains still. After Ella and Thelma both undo their seatbelts, the Anointed One places the flat of her hand against the succubus's mass of long dark hair, and firmly pushes the girl back out thorough the hole in the windscreen. Finally freed, an unconscious Shannon slumps onto the ground. Whereupon Thelma gives another start – with the succubus no longer blocking the view, the ghost has instantly become aware of a figure standing just a few feet away, directly in front of the Smart.  
Roxy. 

Cut to Jo's bedroom. The ex-teacher is straddling Azazeal, leaning back and sucking & licking her index finger as she rides him, staring at him, maintaining eye contract as she grinds her body against his, showing him no mercy...

Cut back to Ella and Thelma, climbing out of separate sides of the Smart and both looking at Roxy in surprise and bemusement.  
"What are you doing here?" Exclaims Thelma.  
As Roxy opens her mouth to speak, we cut to a montage of rapid scenes: Roxy peeking around the door to Malachi's penthouse apartment in the new Church's headquarters, spying on Jo and Perie talking in the overhang, in the pre-title scene in Episode #11; A helicopter sitting on the landing pad atop of the new Church's headquarters, it's rotors turning. Perie strides across the pad towards the aircraft, and as she does so, we see Roxy running crouched down towards it on the opposite side, carefully keeping the 'copter between the faerie and herself. The ghost reaches the aircraft first, and gazes into the interior - when Perie opens the door closest to the nose of the 'copter, Roxy does the same with the rear door on her side, but opening it only a fraction. Perie climbs into the seat next to the pilot, while Roxy squeezes through the slim opening and practically crawls into the back of the aircraft, keeping low and pulling the door quietly but firmly closed behind her, then nervously huddling herself tight into a ball in the foot-rest between the rear seats and those in which the pilot and the faerie are sitting; We next see the helicopter landing in a field in moonlit semi-darkness, the searchlight under it's nose illuminating the ground. Perie climbs out of the aircraft, and Roxy does the same on the other side, again opening the door just wide enough to squeeze through, and timing the opening and shutting of the door to match Perie's actions. Once her door is closed, the ghost flings herself to the ground and lays flat. The 'copter takes off, and after a few seconds Roxy cautiously raises her head, looks about, and sees Perie walking away across the field, her back to the ghost. Roxy scrambles up and sets off after the faerie, staying semi-crouched and low to the ground, mindful of not getting too close.  
We cut back to Roxy, explaining to Thelma and Ella;  
"- but then the moon went behind some clouds, and I lost her in the darkness. Eventually I found a road, then heard a series of loud bangs coming from this direction. I reached a high wall and managed to scramble over it, and the noise and the glow of the flames led me here."  
"This woman who Jo sent here - what did she look like?" Asks Ella.  
"Tall, slim, beautiful, with dark hair. Exotic looking. Had a foreign accent." Replies Roxy.  
"Perie." Murmurs Thelma. "Perie's here."

Cut to the 4x4 containing Leon, Midge and the other three abducted girls, travelling along the wide gravel drive leading away from Rachel's mansion. Leon is driving, Midge is in the front passenger seat, and the three girls are in the rear. The atmosphere is tense and noticeably silent. Self-consciously aware of Midge sitting alongside him, Leon is pretending to focus all his attention on the car's progress along the drive. The female trio in the back are wide-eyed and nervous, relieved at being free from the cells, but still ignorant of what this is all about, and slightly wary of their apparent rescuers. Midge has pointedly not looked at, spoken to, or even acknowledged Leon since entering the vehicle, and has instead been looking intently at the wing mirror.  
"Can't see anyone following us." She finally reports.  
"Good." Says Leon with a nod, relieved that the silence has been broken.  
The light cast by the headlamps of the 4x4 reach a set of large, imposing, and very sturdy-looking metal railed gates, firmly closed. Leon brings the vehicle to a gentle halt, the engine idling. The sound of a heavy goods vehicle can be heard, coming from somewhere closeby, travelling down one of the lanes on the other side of the wall.  
"What now? Ram them?" Enquiries Midge, nodding towards the gates, but Leon shakes his head;  
"I think we'll do more damage to the car than we'll do to them." He opines, then he turns to look at the three girls in the back seat. "We're going to have to climb. Don't worry, my car's about ten minutes walk away."  
"Leon!" Midge suddenly yells out, and he spins his head, just in time to see a large, dark shape loom into view on the other side of the gates.  
Then a pair of dazzling headlights, set on full beam, burst into life, blinding Leon and Midge, and a split second later the rig of an articulated, eighteen-wheeled truck ploughs into the gates. The metal screeches and buckles, the gate on the right almost doubling back on itself – but they were built to withstand heavy impacts, and although badly damaged, they do not collapse. Instead, the truck shudders to a halt, unable to proceed further and caught fast between the concertinaed gates like a fly in a web. The collision has shattered the vehicle's headlights and radiator covering, and sheared off the front corners of the rig, reducing them to a gouged welter of metal. The doors either side of the driver's cab are jammed tight against the twisted gates, making opening them impossible.  
Still taken by surprise and not knowing how to react, Leon and Midge watch as the windscreen of the truck is suddenly hit by several gunshots coming from within the cab and fired in rapid succession, cobwebbing and weakening the glass. The sound of gunfire triggers a reaction in Leon, and he puts the 4x4 into reverse.  
"Leon?" Murmurs Midge, as something in the cab strikes the damaged windscreen, knocking it out of it's frame in one piece, so that it falls down onto the drive.  
Two hands – wearing leather gloves, but clearly feminine - appear from within the cab, reaching up and grasping the top of the now-vacant frame, and then the occupant lifts and swings herself out of the rig, emerging feet first. She lands nimbly in a crouched position in front of the stationary truck, the windscreen lying behind her, one hand reaching forward so it's fingertips touch the gravel. The woman lifts her head and looks directly at Leon and Midge, the enigmatic smile on her face illuminated by the headlights of the 4x4.  
"Crap." Breathes Leon.  
It's Perie. The faerie has her hair tied up at the back, and is clad in a dark green leather jacket zipped up to her chin, and matching skintight trousers. But it's the other items she's wearing that catch Leon's attention. Two compact machine-pistols are holstered on her thighs, and two identical weapons sit in holsters under her arms, grips facing outwards. She has a pair of revolvers holstered to her lower legs, fastened around her black knee-high boots, and another object - larger than the other weapons - sits on her back, held there by a wide strap that runs around the left side of her neck and under her right arm. The faerie is also wearing a tight web harness, to which a collection of grenades and spare clips are attached. She looks like a walking gun store. The faerie stands upright - a movement that reminds Leon of a cobra uncoiling itself and rearing up - and lifts the wide strap over her head, freeing the item on her back and moving it to her right side, where she takes hold of it. It looks similar to the Thompson machine-guns that Leon saw in a couple of black & white gangster movies in Film Studies, but much bulkier, with a larger, wider barrel. He recognises it as a grenade launcher at the exact same moment that he realises Perie hasn't stopped looking directly at him since she exited the driver's cab, almost as though mesmerising him. The spell broken, Leon hits the accelerator and the 4x4 careers backwards.  
"Go go go!" Yells Midge frantically, as Perie aims the grenade launcher at the retreating vehicle.  
The faerie is preparing to fire from the hip, but as the 4x4 continues to speed away from her, she lifts the weapon to her shoulder, knowing that a higher trajectory is now needed to compensate for both the additional gravitational pull and gradual loss of forward kinetic energy as the projectile travels the increased distance to the target. The smile having never left her face, she pulls the trigger.  
Leon doesn't see the impact or hear the explosion, but as the windscreen blows inward and the front of the 4x4 suddenly rears up, as though the vehicle was a toy that's been kicked by a child having a tantrum, logic tells him that they've been hit. He's reflecting on how strangely calm he feels when his head slams against the roof, and he suddenly realises as the 4x4 is tossed through the air that in their haste to leave the mansion behind, neither he or any of the girls remembered to put their seatbelts on. _Typical_, he thinks: _How bloody stu_-  
The screen goes black.

Cut to Ella, Thelma and Roxy, outside the south entrance of the mansion's central building.  
"Oh, and I've found out who this place belongs to." Reports Roxy. "It's -"  
"Rachel McBain. We already know." Interjects Thelma.  
"Oh." Murmurs Roxy, slightly surprised.  
"Thelma went snooping earlier." Explains Ella.  
"You recognised her from her portrait? The one that used to hang in the dining hall?" Roxy asks her fellow ghost.  
"The very same." Nods Thelma.  
"So... how is she still alive? I mean, she's supposed to have died centuries ago." Roxy queries.  
"Don't know, don't care." Thelma declares. "Right now we've got other things to worry about. Malachi still has one of the hostages."  
"Well, there's something else I've learnt." Offers Roxy. "She's quitting this place. Rachel McBain, I mean. She's leaving."  
"How do you know this?" Asks Ella.  
"I was looking about for you and Leon. Instead, I found her in a control room, trying to take charge of the fire-fighting. I was standing right behind her when she phoned one of her people and told them she was leaving. She's taking a helicopter."  
Ella and Thelma exchange a look, processing this new information.  
"You have to stop her." Thelma tells the Anointed One, making the decision for both of them. "It has to end here, tonight. If she gets away, she'll cause all of this to kick off again in the future. Besides, you and she have unfinished business."  
Ella weighs up the ghost's words, then nods;  
"It's time to lay the McBains to rest." She agrees.  
"It's what you do, Ella Dee. It's what you're for." Thelma comments with a quiet, understanding smile, which the Anointed One returns.  
Then both of them are all business again.  
"Malachi and Amber Chase?" Ella queries.  
"Leave it to me. I can handle it." Thelma replies.  
Ella acknowledges this with another nod, then looks at Roxy;  
"Where's this helicopter?" She asks, but the ghost shrugs apologetically.  
"I don't know. I've not seen it." Roxy says.  
"I have." Declares Thelma. "There's a massive courtyard that they're using as a landing pad. It's on the north side of the mansion. Quickest way there is back through the main building."  
The Anointed One turns and looks at the central part of the house: thick black smoke is pouring out of the windows on the top two floors and heading straight up into the brightening pre-dawn sky. The flames can clearly be heard, together with the occasional sound of walls and sections of floor collapsing.  
"There isn't another route?" Ella asks.  
"Just go through the basement." Thelma insists, pointing to a set of stone steps descending underground, identical to the ones that led to the cells under the west wing. "There's a corridor on the right that leads straight under the house to the north side. If you hurry, it should be safe. Take this, in case the fire's taken the power off and the lights aren't working."  
The ghost removes the thick, elasticated black headband that she's been wearing, to which is clipped a small, oblong-shaped torchlight that's been resting on her forehead. She tosses it to Ella, who catches it and puts it on. Thelma then pulls a spare torch out of her toolbelt and hands it to Roxy.  
"You'd better have that. One might not be enough." Thelma tells her fellow ghost.  
Roxy looks at her non-comprehendingly.  
"You're going with Ella." States Thelma. "I'm already dead, but she's not, so she needs someone to watch her back. And you're nominated. Unless you've got other plans?"  
"No. No." Murmurs Roxy, surprised but clearly pleased that she's being trusted.  
"Right. Meet you back at the west wall?" Thelma suggests to Ella.  
"Agreed." Says the Anointed One. "Good luck Thelma."  
"You too." Replies the ghost, and she turns back to the Smart.  
"Wait!" Yells Roxy, as Thelma is about to open the door on the driver's side.  
The ghost hurries around the car, walks up to Thelma, and - to the surprise of both Thelma and Ella - kisses and embraces her passionately. Initially taken aback, after a couple of seconds Thelma responds, wrapping her own arms around the other spirit and returning the kiss hungrily. Ella gazes at them and raises an amused eyebrow. Several seconds pass, then Roxy breaks off the kiss and immediately looks down, as though embarrassed. There's an air of awkwardness as the ghosts take a half-step back from one another, their arms slipping smoothly past each other's.  
"Sorry." Roxy murmurs, still looking down.  
She risks a quick glance at Thelma;  
"It's just that... I've not had any human contact since I died." Roxy continues guiltily. "I've not been touched, or -"  
"Whoa! Stop right there." Declares Thelma with a grin. "Anyone who kisses like that should never apologise."  
She moves slightly closer to Roxy, and adds a conspiratorial tone to her voice;  
"That wasn't the first time you'll kissed a girl, was it?"  
"No." Roxy confesses with a coy smile.  
"Well, trust me Davenport," Thelma announces as she opens the driver's door of the Smart and climbs inside, "if I have anything to do with it, it definitely won't be the last time either."  
Ella bends down and taps on the passenger side window, and Thelma reaches over and winds it down a few inches.  
"Thelma, listen to me." Says the Anointed One through the gap, with a note of urgency in her voice. "If you get there too late, and Malachi's already extracted his lifeforce from Amber, but hasn't reabsorbed it into himself, whatever you do, don't touch it."  
"But I can't touch anything that's alive." Thelma counters.  
"You can't touch anything living, no." Confirms Ella. "But this will be Life itself, without physical form. As intangible as you are."  
"And me touching it would be bad, right?" Murmurs Thelma.  
"You're dead, Thelma." Ella states simply. "Life and death don't mix."  
Thelma nods in acknowledgement, then starts the tiny car, steers around the prone Shannon and sets off in the direction of the stone circle. As Roxy watches the Smart speed off, Ella walks over to her.  
"So." The Anointed One says with a knowing smile.  
"Yes." Roxy replies, with a self-conscious half-shrug, then a thought occurs to her, and she turns to Ella with a look of concern;  
"Oh - I gave her tongue." The ghost blurts out. "I just got carried away. Too soon?"  
"No no." Ella assures her with a shake of the head and wave of the hand.  
"Good. Thank you." Roxy says, relieved.  
"You're welcome." The Anointed One murmurs. "Let's go kill Rachel McBain."

Cut to Jo's bedroom. The ex-teacher is still riding Azazeal, her hair flying as her movements become increasingly more frenzed, squealing and rapidly moving her finger in and out of her mouth...

Cut to inside the 4x4 containing Leon, Midge and the other three girls. The vehicle is lying on it's roof, and broken glass from the shattered front and back windscreens and side windows is carpeting the interior. Leon is lying on his right side, apparently unconscious, his head resting on the car's internal ceiling. Several small fragments of glass are embedded in his face, and he's bleeding from a large gash in his forehead. His right arm is scretched out behind his head, the hand covered in blood. It's obvious that some of his fingers are broken. Midge is lying face down, unmoving, across his legs. Somewhere in the back of the vehicle, off-camera, one of the girls is screaming in pain and shrilly crying out for help, while another is semi-conscious and every few seconds murmurs something incoherent.  
..._crunch...crunch...crunch_... Visible though the opening that used to house the front windscreen, a pair of black high-heeled boots approach the 4x4 across the gravel. They stop right in front of the vehicle, and Perie crouches down and peers inside, tilting her head as she does so. The grenade launcher is again resting across her back. Still smiling, she calmly and unhurriedly gazes around the interior, then reaches in and takes hold of Leon's right wrist. Leon stirs and moans as the faerie pulls him out from under Midge and across the mass of broken glass, dragging him free of the vehicle and onto the gravel. Having pulled him several feet clear of the 4x4, the faerie leaves him and goes back to the vehicle, crouching down again. She observes the screaming girl who's still begging for help, the other two captives in the back, and Midge lying sprawled in the front. Removing the revolver from the holster around her lower left leg, Perie points it inside the vehicle, towards the rear, and - BANG.  
The screaming abruptly stops mid-note. Reholstering the weapon, the faerie straightens and walks round to the back of the vehicle. Pulling open the boot - which due to the upside-down nature of the 4x4, now opens down instead of up - she looks inside, reaches in and produces a green plastic First Aid box. Leaving the boot lid resting on the gravel, the faerie walks back to Leon. Taking hold of the collar of his jacket with her left hand, she drags him towards a solitary tree placed twenty yards back from the drive, and upon reaching it, places his limp frame in a sitting position against it's trunk. Crouching on one knee in front of him, the faerie studies his slackened features and closed eyes with interest.  
"The Anointed One's pet." Perie announces, her voice like silk, then she slaps him sharply across both sides of his face.  
Leon eyelids twitch, he mumbles and fidgets, and raises his hands in a vague, uncoordinated attempt to ward off further blows, but he is clearly far from being fully conscious and aware.  
"Some clarity of mind is required." The faerie observes, and she leans in and kisses him full on the mouth.  
As Perie's lips physically make contact with Leon's, her face suddenly glows, and countless minute golden particles emerge from her skin and wash over him. Leon's eyes spring open - he's instantly wide awake. The faerie breaks off the kiss;  
"You were in need of stimulation." She says by way of explanation.  
Leon looks about, getting his bearings. He points at the glowing particles, still swirlling all about him;  
"What is this stuff?" He blurts out.  
"Faerie dust." Answers Perie, in a tone of voice clearly indicating that she thought this was obvious.  
Then she softly breathes in, and the cloud of simmering dust disappears into her nostrils and partly-open mouth almost instantaneously, as though sucked up by an industrial vacuum cleaner.  
"You taste familar." The faerie continues without missing a beat. "I recall us meeting previously, when you assisted the Anointed One in her escape from incarceration. But have you and I ever had cause to be physical on another occasion?"  
"Yes. In Berlin. Pre-war." Murmurs Leon, knowing there's nothing to be gained by lying.  
"I remember." Perie declares, recognition showing in her eyes, smile unwavering. "A most impressive and rewarding session. At it's conclusion, I granted you a kiss to express my gratitude and permit you a reward. I was most disappointed that you never returned for further experiences. I planned to make you one of my favourities. I intended to explore your limitations, expand your horizons, and extend your thresholds."  
"Sounds like I had a lucky escape." Leon mutters.  
"That is open to question." The faerie opines. "I assume your presense there was due to chronological displacement?"  
He looks at her dumbfounded.  
"Time travel." She clarifies.  
Leon nods, and the faerie observes him for a moment longer, remembering. Leon moves as though to get up, but gasps in pain.  
"You appear to have fractured your right arm" Perie informs him, "and three fingers on that hand. You have also fractured your left leg."   
She gazes down at the limb in question and firmly squeezes it halfway down the shin, causing Leon to cry out.  
"In two places." She concludes.  
The faerie opens the First Aid box and produces a pair of scissors. Leon eyes them apprehensively, and she catches his gaze.  
"Your concern is understandable, but unnecessary." Perie assures him. "As you may recall, I am a fully qualified nurse."  
Still smiling, she holds up the scissors and pointedly opens and then closes the blades with a loud snip. Leon swallows nervously.  
"More than adequate." Perie comments, examining the contents of the box."On many occasions I have had to work with substantially less. I have scoured battlefields and tended to the wounded for over two millenium."  
"You've helped people?" Leon asks, surprised.  
"Is such a concept difficult to comprehend?" The faerie counters, her calm smile never flickering. "My kind have always stewarded the human race in various guises. I personally lean towards causing pain and suffering. It is both my nature and my calling. When a primitive buried an animal bone into another's skull and invented murder, he did so out of jealousy, to gain ownership of me. Multitudes beyond number have since fought and killed for me. I have been worshipped as a goddess, inspired as a muse, and even loved as a woman. Men have murdered their wives, merely to have me for a night. Kings and emperors have taken nations to war and put entire civilizations to the sword, merely to gain my favour. I have observed metropolis being razed to the ground, and bathed in rivers red with blood. Empires have fallen in my name. And when there were no more lands to conquer, I have buried the dead, treated the casualities, and waited for the cycle to begin again."  
She reaches out and gently strokes her warm, soft fingers against the side of Leon's face, taking care to avoid the glass embedded there.  
"Mankind. My favourite plaything." The faerie declares.  
Leon tries to digest this as he watches Perie return to searching through the First Aid kit.  
"You should help the others first." He insists, nodding towards the 4x4. "They might be seriously hurt."  
"Your companions are not my immediate concern." The faerie says. "Now remain as stationary as possible."

Cut to Ella and Roxy walking briskly through the underground passageway. Noticing that the ghost keeps glancing sideways at her, Ella decides to address whatever's bothering her companion;  
"Anything you want to ask me, Roxy? It's okay." She says, having already taken an educated guess as to what the brunette will say.  
"It's just strange seeing you again," murmurs Roxy, "knowing what I now know."  
"How so?" Ella asks.  
"I've often heard Jo talking about you." Explains the ghost. "She describes you being as the Right Hand of God. She said you're the physical manifestation of His power on Earth."  
"I am His instrument." Ella concedes. "Although we haven't been on speaking terms lately."  
"So... what's God like?" Roxy enquiries cautiously.  
"I've never talked to him direct." The Anointed One clarifies. "Any instructions or information always comes through third parties, such as angels or mediums. Plus occasionally He uses signs and potents – burning bushes, messages lit up in the clouds, talking statues, that kind of thing. But if you're asking what he's like as an employer..."  
"Yes?" Says Roxy expectantly.  
"In my experience, he's an impatient sexist bully who expects miracles." Ella declares flatly.  
"Oh." The ghost murmurs, slightly chestfallen.  
The two women walk in silence for several seconds.  
"Feel free to tell me it's none of my business, but that moment between you and Thelma back there. Care to expand?" Ella ventures.  
Roxy glances at the floor and smiles demurely. If she had any blood in her veins, she'd be blushing.  
"Oh, that. Well... Gemma and I used to experiment. Together. Enough times for her to realise that she wasn't bi, and for me to realise that I definitely was." The ghost explains  
"I understand." The Anointed One says with a reassuring grin, but then she adds a serious tone to her voice: "Thelma's my friend, Roxy. I don't want her hurt."  
"I think I'm the one who's at risk of being hurt." The ghost murmurs. "I used to have a.. a crush I suppose, on Thelma. At Medenham, before she died."  
"She's never said. Did she know?" Ella asks.  
Roxy slows and stops, gazing at the floor, remembering. The Anointed One comes to a halt beside her.  
"No. I never acted on it. Never gave her reason to.. Nothing could have happened, anyway." The brunette declares. "We were total opposites. I knew she'd never feel the same. She was so free, and... there was so much expected of me. So I did my bitch act and distanced myself from her."  
She looks at Ella and smiles sadly;  
"When they found her in the lake, I was all flippant in public. I made jokes about her topping herself and acted as though I didn't give a damn. Ice Cold Davenport, that's what they called me. Then I went to my room, locked the door, hugged my teddy bear and cried for two whole hours." The spectre confesses.  
Despite knowing that Roxy is in the midst of unburdening herself of a deeply personal secret, Ella still has to suppress a smile at the thought of ultra-aware and self-confident Roxanne Davenport covertly having a teddy bear.  
"And it was after Thelma died that you experimented with Gemma?" The Anointed One asks gently.  
"I wanted to know if what I felt for her was just a one-off, or if I could feel that way about other women." The ghost nods. "So a few nights later I went out with Gemma, and made sure we both got tipsy - not drunk, still aware of what we were doing. Then I dragged her back to my room and jumped on her. If she'd said no, I would have stopped. But she didn't. She was curious too."  
"And that was your first time with a woman?" Ella enquiries softly.  
"Yes. Like I said, we slept together a few times after that, until Gemma decided it wasn't for her. It was nice, being with Gemma. But although I liked her, it wasn't anywhere near what I'd felt for Thelma." Roxy confirms. "Meanwhile, I kept being a stone cold bitch by day. I'd lead boys on, screw them senseless, publicly dump them the next morning, and tell everyone they were a crap lay. I'd seduce male teachers, then blackmail them for better grades. I did it because I knew men found me desirable. I did it because I could."  
"You were hardly the first attractive girl to use her looks and exploit the power she had over men." The Anointed One offers.  
"Maybe not. But then Jez killed himself and suddenly it wasn't a game anymore. I realised the immensity of what I was doing. My actions were ruining lives - had ended a life." The ghost recalls sadly (Ella goes to say something, but thinks better of it). "I had to repent." Roxy concludes.  
"And you've redeemed yourself, Roxy." The Anointed One assures her. "Whatever wrongs you think you were responsble for in life, you've more than made up for, believe me."  
"I just hope that's true." The spectre murmurs. "All I know now is that I've got another chance with Thelma, and I'm scared to death, for lack of a better term. I don't want to be too full on, I might scare her off. What should I do?"   
Ella thinks carefully before replying;  
"Roxy, I haven't seen Thelma that relaxed with someone as she was back there with you, for... well, a long time." The Anointed One states reassuringly. "If you're genuine with her, she will be in return. She's good like that. It'll be fine, you're see."  
Roxy accepts this with a hopeful nod.  
"Come on, let's go." Ella says with a grin, and the two of them continue down the passageway.  
"So who is this Perie person?" The ghost enquires, skillfully changing the subject.  
"Let's just say she's bad news." Ella replies. "Whenever she turns up, something bad happens."  
"So... a bit like you then?" Roxy suggests warily, risking another sideways glance at the Anointed One.  
Ella smiles grimly at the irony;  
"Yes." She agrees. "A bit like me."

Cut back to Leon and Perie. The faerie has cut material from Leon's jacket to make a sling for his broken arm, used bandages to secure twigs against his injured fingers as makeshift splints, and snapped off a thin but sturdy tree branch to make a splint for his left leg, tied firmly in place with the laces from his trainers. She has also plucked out the slivers of glass decorating his face. Crouching in front of her patient, she surveys her handiwork.  
"Why are you doing this? Helping me?" Leon asks her.  
Perie tilts her head slightly, considers his query for a moment, then stands up.  
"You have a benefactor. A guardian angel, though not in the literal sense." She informs him. "Someone who bargained for your life, despite having no life of their own to give."  
"So I owe this person my thanks, not you." States Leon, to which the faerie gives a graceful nod.  
"Will you see to the others now?" Leon asks, indicating the 4x4.  
"Indeed. I have very specific instructions where they are concerned." She confirms, lifting the strap over her head and moving the grenade launcher off her back.  
We quickly see a black & white flashback to Episode #11, with Jo and Perie in Malachi's penthouse, the ex-teacher handing the faerie a folder containing several photos.  
"You must ensure that these individuals" Jo says, tapping the top of the folder with her forefinger "do not leave that mansion alive."  
Previously we couldn't see the photos clearly, but now we can. They're pictures of Midge, Amber Chase, and the other three kidnapped girls.  
Cut back to the present, in colour. We're now inside the upside-down 4x4. Midge is lying on her front amongst the broken glass, her face pointing towards the camera. Her eyelids flicker and she mumbles, then her eyes slowly open fully. Blinking, she looks about, moves her arms and tries to raise herself onto her elbows, but winces and gasps in pain. She rests back down on the upturned roof. She glances about again at her surroundings. The camera switches to her Point Of View, and through the opening that used to be the driver's side window she sees Perie and Leon about twenty yards away. Leon is sitting against a tree, looking bashed about and with his arm in a sling, while Perie in standing in front of him, wearing sprayed-on dark green leather and laden with automatic weapons. The two of them seem to be talking, but they're too far away for Midge to make out what's being said. Then Perie turns, smiling, holding something in both hands, and points it directly at the 4x4. Behind the faerie Leon is shouting, and Midge can faintly hear it;  
"NNNOOOO!!"  
The object that Perie is aiming makes a low coughing sound, and in the final spilt second, realisation collides with one last thought in Midge's mind, to which she gives voice;  
"Bollocks." She mutters.  
The camera cuts back to Leon and Perie, as twenty yeads away the grenade hits the 4x4 and detonates. The vehicle shifts on the gravel as though nudged by a giant's foot, and there's a sound that's part-thunderclap, part-metallic screech as all the doors are torn off, twisted and blown outwards - away from the 4x4 - by the explosion. Also ejected outwards is a mass of glass fragments, a welter of metal and plastic debris, and coppery wet pieces of human tissue. Leon watches, helpless and sickened, knowing that some of the cloud of matter that is raining down on the gravel and grass around the vehicle used to be Midge. Then the petrol tank ignites, there's a _whoosh_ and the 4x4 is rocked again as it's engulfed in a fireball. For a few seconds Perie observes the vehicle burning, then she turns and casually looks at Leon. Her smile hasn't wavered.  
"I have completed the task I was assigned." She announces. "My mission is accomplished. My time is therefore now my own. And I wish to see what enjoyment this place can offer me."  
Leon goes to say something, but the faerie steps towards him, leans down and applies pressure with her index finger to a specific point on his left temple. He instantly lapses into unconsciousness and his head slumps forward.  
"I recommend plenty of rest." Perie declares.  
She turns and - without a backward glance - walks off along the drive, in the direction of the mansion.

Cut to Jo's bedroom. The ex-teacher is lying on top of Azazeal, purring in her afterglow.  
"Do you know what I enjoy most about having sex with you?" She murmurs.  
"Shall I write a list?" The Nephilm replies wryly, and Jo raises her head and playfully punches him in the ribs.  
"I'm serious." She insists.  
"Alright. Enlighten me." He says, humouring her.  
Jo crosses her arms on his chest and rests her chin on them, looking at him as she speaks;  
"You're an angel. One of the Architects of Creation. You stood beside God and helped form and mould the universe with your own hands."  
Uncrossing her arms, she reaches for both of his hands and takes hold of them, pressing her palms against his and interlocking fingers.  
"These hands." She continues.  
Releasing his right hand, Jo rolls off Azazeal and onto her back, next to him. She guides his left hand inbetween her legs.  
"So when you touch me with your hands," she wavers, closing her eyes "when I feel you inside me... it's the closest thing there is to screwing God."  
Azazeal's smile grows more wolfish as Jo gasps and archs her back.

Cut to the eastern side of the mansion. The last of the possessions that have been saved from the flames are being placed inside various vehicles from Rachel's collection. Kessel walks along the length of the convoy.  
"Complete the loading." She instructs loudly to the dozen or so men who are moving the artifacts quickly but carefully. "I'll go ahead and make sure the driveway's clear. Follow me when you're finished."  
She reaches the head of the convoy, where a gleaming white E-type Jaguar sits. Climbing into the classic car, Kessel starts the engine and goes roaring off, speeding round the corner of the wing and joining the mansion's gravel drive, which branches off from the main entrance and covers this side of the building. A couple of seconds after the E-type has passed the first of the trees that line the drive, Perie steps into view, having ducked behind the tree at the sound of an approaching vehicle, wanting to gauge what numbers she was facing before deciding on a course of action. Seeing it is one car with a single occupant, she levels her grenade launcher at the rear of the rapidly receding E-type... then thinks better of it. Best to save her ammunition for the more plentiful targets that undoubtably await her at the mansion, just up ahead.  
"Fly away, little bird." The faerie advises, gazing at the Jaguar as it disappears from sight.  
She lets the grenade launcher drop to her side, then turns and walks unhurriedy towards the curve in the drive that leads to the eastern side of the main building.

Cut to Ella and Roxy hurriedly making their way up the exterior steps leading out of the basement on the north-facing side of the mansion's central building. The sound of a helicopter's engine and rapidly turning blades can be heard, very close by. The two girls reach ground level at the top of the steps. Stretching out to their right is the large two-sided courtyard that doubles as the landing pad, with Rachel's helicopter sitting slightly off-centre, ready for take off. Walking across the courtyard's smooth surface, Rachel McBain is only ten feet away from the aircraft, having to crouch slightly due to the downdraft from the rotors. Spotting the Lady of the Manor, Ella immediately sprints off across the courtyard with Roxy at her heels. The noise of the helicopter drowns out Ella's footfalls, but glimpsing movement out of the corner of her eye, Rachel turns her head and sees the Anointed One running towards her. Stunned recognition shows on Lady McBain's features as her eyes widen and her jaw noticeably clenches, but displaying the instincts that have kept her alive for almost three centuries, she immediately recovers and covers the last few feet to the helicopter in an instant, pulling open the rear door and throwing herself inside.  
"UP! Take us up NOW!" She yells at the pilot.  
The aircraft lifts off, rising shakily in the air as Rachel reaches back and slams the door shut. Still a good thirty yards away, Ella brings her run down to a jog and then halts, Roxy skidding to a stop alongside her, and together the two girls watch the helicopter's altitude slowly increase. Inside the craft, a relieved Rachel clambers into a seat, pauses for a moment composing herself and letting out a deep breath, then looks down at her lifelong enemy through the rear door's plexiglass window. Smiling smugly, she blows Ella a kiss.  
Her face unreadable, the Anointed One abruptly turns and walks briskly away. Not knowing what else to do, Roxy simply follows. After several seconds, Ella stops and spins round, producing the two segments of Volta staff from underneath her coat, bringing them aloft in front of her and snapping it together, all in one smooth movement. Inside the helicopter, Rachel's eyes again grow wide, this time in realisation, as Ella – the same unreadable expression set on her face like stone – unleashes an energy bolt at the front of the aircraft. The helicopter's windows burst, the controls and instruments explode in a mass of sparks and splinters of glass, and the pilot's body jerks and spasms as he's repeatedly hit by dancing streams of energy that coil and undulate around the inside of the aircraft. In the rear, Rachel screams helplessly and protectively flings her arms across her face.  
Ella and Roxy watch as the stricken helicopter banks slightly, dipping it's rotors on the side facing them, before suddenly dropping like a rock. The rotors strike the landing pad first, and a three foot long section of blade sheers off and flies directly towards the two girls. Ella instantly throws herself to the ground, and the broken blade whizzes over her and passes straight through Roxy's waist, causing the ghost to produce an impressively loud squeak of alarm. The helicopter's fuselage collides with the ground with a sharp, heavy crump of metal, as behind Roxy the section of rotor blade strikes the surface of the courtyard and yields a scattering of sparks along it's edge, as the impact and the blade's remaining momentum cause it to spin back into the air like a flipped coin.  
Lying face down, Ella raises herself on her elbows and looks back at Roxy;  
"Are you okay?" The Anointed One asks, before smiling ruefully and correcting herself: "Sorry. Silly question."  
Appearing somewhat stunned, Roxy is slowly running her hands over her waist, gazing down at her body and then looking round at the rotor blade segment, which has finally come to rest some distance behind her.  
"Yes… I'm… fine." The ghost mumbles absently, as though having not heard everything that Ella said.  
The Anointed One gets to her feet and regards the downed helicopter, the fuselage of which has mostly held together in one piece. The craft's engines are still supplying power to the tail rotor, which is impotently spinning at full speed, looking like a blurry disc as it cuts through the air, it's safety cover having been broken off by the crash.  
"So… what's that?" Roxy asks, having come to terms with surviving her own dismemberment – figuratively speaking - and pointing at the Volta.  
"Multi-purpose key." Says Ella matter-of-factly, detaching the staff and storing both segments back within her coat. "Opens any door."  
The Anointed One looks again the wrecked aircraft.  
"Has a hundred and one other uses." She adds grimly. "Never leave home without it."  
The pilot is visible within the wrecked cockpit, lifeless but held in place by his seatbelt, head slumped forward, his skin visibly burnt, clothes smouldering and emitting wispy smoke. Cooked meat, thinks Ella.  
Then the rear door facing the Anointed One and the ghost falls off it's hinges, and Rachel McBain almost follows it, but she shoots out an arm, grabs the doorframe, and manages to steady herself. She hadn't put on a seatbelt, so when the helicopter fell she was thrown up against the roof of the interior, then back down across the seats and the floor when the aircraft hit the ground. Blood is pouring down one side of her face, from a deep gash across her scalp, effectively blinding her in one eye. With her other eye she glares at Ella, her face contorted in anger.  
"Ella…Dee. Anointed Bitch!" She spits loudly.  
Attempting to exit the helicopter, her legs fail her and she sprawls to her left, towards the aircraft's tail, scraping the palms of her hands on the surface of the landing pad. Ella calmly starts walking towards her, but Roxy hangs back, an apprehensive look on her face. Dazed, Rachel shakes her head to waken herself. Slowly scrambling to her feet, she glances at the approaching Anointed One, then reaches down and parts her dress where it is slit below the waist to reveal a compact .22 pistol in a holster strapped to her right thigh. Tugging the gun loose, she levels it at Ella, smiles giddily in triumph, and pulls the trigger.  
Click.  
Rachel's good eye widens and panic shows on her face. She pulls the trigger again and again as Ella walks up to her - click, click, click, click – until the Anointed One reaches out with her left hand, calmly takes hold of Rachel's right wrist, and breaks it with a simple twist. Bones audibly snap and Rachel howls in pain, the pistol falling out of her fingers and hitting the ground. Ella kicks the gun away, and it skids nearly twenty feet across the slick courtyard surface.  
"Safety catch." Explains Ella, over the sound of the tail rotor. "Easy mistake to make when you rely on others to do your killing for you."  
Rachel grins bitterly;  
"Like God you mean?" She glares.  
"Just so." Agrees Ella calmly.  
As the Anointed One still has hold of her right arm, Rachel lunges at Ella's face with her left hand, but Ella is ready, and grabs the immortal's left wrist. Then, before Rachel can react, Ella headbutts her in the face. Rachel's head rolls back, blood spurting out of her nose. If Ella wasn't still holding her arms, she probably would have fallen. As her head sways forward again, Rachel stares at the Anointed One with undiluted anger;  
"You slaughtered my entire coven." The immortal hisses.  
"And you were about to sell out your last remaining family to Malachi." Ella counters. "Don't expect a halo."  
Rachel responds by spitting a mouthful of blood at her enemy. Ella doesn't flinch as it hits her chin and mouth. Instead, she merely twists her right hand, breaking Rachel's other wrist. As the immortal cries out, Ella deftly shifts her hold to further up Rachel's forearm, then suddenly twists, jerks and pulls with surprising force, expertly dislocating the woman's shoulder. Rachel yells, and the Anointed One releases her arm, which hangs uselessly. With her right hand now free, Ella produces a dagger from within the folds of her coat, and purposefully taps the tip of the weapon against Rachel's cheek.  
"Recognise it?" The Anointed One asks.  
Rachel risks a quick glance at the blade, then defiantly looks Ella in the eye;  
"The Knife of Orokiah." Lady McBain declares. "You used it to kill my entire bloodline."  
"Not quite." Ella replies, lowering the knife slightly, then plunging it into Rachel's neck in an upward trajectory, up to the hilt.  
Rachel's eyes – including the one gummed up with blood – open wide and seem to bulge in their sockets, lit up from within, blazing with pain and realisation. A barely-noticeable shudder runs the length of her body, as her lips curl back from her teeth and a hissing, rasping breath escapes from between them. The Anointed One emotionlessly regards her stricken opponent for a moment.  
"Now I have." Ella murmurs, then she pulls out the knife, releases her hold on the woman's wrist, and unleashes a high kick that hits Rachel between the breasts and knocks her backwards into the blades of the tail rotor.  
The camera briefly cuts to Roxy, as the ghost grimaces, then returns to Ella, as the Anointed One instantly shuts her eyes and turns her head to one side, to prevent having any of the blood and tiny pieces of bone and tissue that are spraying thinly over her getting into her eyes. What's left of Rachel McBain – her legs and part of her lower torso – collapses onto the ground. Ella grants her enemy's remains the briefest of glances, then turns and walks back to Roxy. The ghost is visibly lost for words as she gazes at her friend – the Anointed One is covered in droplets of blood and slimy, wet particles of human matter.  
"I am God's Assassin, Roxy." States Ella simply, in response to the ghost's discomfort. "Welcome to my world."  
Almost as though on cue, a series of explosions - so close together that they overlap and are difficult to differentiate - can be heard coming from a reasonable distance away. Roxy and Ella look in the direction the noise is coming from - the east.  
"Those aren't ours, are they?" Roxy queries.  
"No." Says Ella warily.  
A few seconds later, as both ghost and Anointed One strain their ears, the fainter sound of automatic gunfire reaches them.  
"It's Perie." Ella murmurs.

Cut to the eastern side of the mansion, and the camera pans across a scene of carnage. The various vehicles are lying flipped onto their sides, fully upturned on their roofs, in flames, blown apart, or a combination therefore. The priceless artifacts they were carrying are scattered about on the ground, shattered and broken. Lying alongside and amongst them are the lifeless bodies of Rachel's men, also either burning, bullet-ridden, or torn apart by the explosions. Most are missing one or more limbs. Perie's high-heeled boots step into frame, walking amongst the debris and spent bullet castings that litter the ground. She eventually comes to a halt by one of the bodies, which is lying face down and lacking the more extreme signs of damage displayed by most of the others. The faere reaches down, takes hold of the back of the collar of the man's jacket, and with one swift movement - displaying surprising strength - pulls him to his feet. The man cries out, more from fear than pain.  
"There is absolutely nothing to be gained by feigning being dead." Perie informs him, pressing the barrel of the machine-pistol that she's holding in her other hand against his stomach. "My eyes are not restricted to the spectrum that you are limited to. I can see Life itself, as bright as neon."  
Before the man can react, she suddenly pokes the gun downwards, shoving it inside the waistband of his trousers and pressing the tip of the barrel against his groin.  
"Sometimes it can actually be a slight discomfort. If I am in close proximity with multiple lifeforms for any prolonged period of time, the constant glare can make my eyes become mildly irritated. On occasion, I have been known to wear darkened spectacles until they adjust." The faerie continues. "The only alternative is to extinguish the source of the illumination."  
"Wha - what?" The dazed man splutters.  
Perie replies by pulling the trigger and emptying the reminder of the clip into him, so that round after round bloodily explodes out of his buttocks and inbetween his legs in a mass of torn flesh and bone splinters. The faerie lets go of his collar and the man collapses like the dead weight he has become. Casually dropping the empty machine-pistol, Perie slowly and gracefully turns round in a complete circle, gazing at the destruction she has wrought, then nods in satisfaction.  
"Lights out." She declares.

Cut to Leon in close up, still unconscious and propped up in a sitting position against the tree. A hand suddenly slaps him quick and hard, several times. His eyes flicker and open, and the camera switches to his Point Of View: his vision is blurry, but it starts to clear and he sees a figure - a woman - tall and slim, standing in front of him. She's also holding a revolver in her right hand, pointed directly at him. At first he thinks it's Perie, but then he focuses on the massive breasts that are barely contained by the woman's low cut top. Not Perie then, thinks Leon, although the faerie had nothing to be ashamed of in that department. But seeing the impressive bust hovering over him causes the last piece of the jigsaw to slot into place;  
"Big Janice." He murmurs in recognition.  
"Leon Taylor." Kessel replies, emphasising her accent. "I'm surprised you recognise me. I can't recall a single time that you actually looked at my face."  
"What are you doing here?" Leon asks, now fully awake but understandably bemused. "And how come you're Nordic?"  
"My name is Kessel." The German girl announces. "And I am employed by the owner of this estate."  
Leon digests her answer, working out the implications, then nods in realisation.  
"You were a spy." He declares. "Standing there in the school canteen, ladling cold baked beans and lumpy gravy onto plates, tits spilling out of your uniform. You were Rachel McBain's eyes and ears the whole time. Her mole at Medenham."  
"Guilty as charged." Kessel confirms with a slight nod. "And I don't need to ask why you are here."  
She gestures with the revolver, waving it in the direction of the mansion.  
"You brought all this down on us, didn't you?" She says, clearly intending it to be a declaration instead of a question. "We didn't know who was responsible, but with you being here… it's the Anointed One."  
There's an edge in her voice, a note of casual finality, that indicates she's just announced his death sentence. But not for a moment does Leon think of denying it, as he knows there is no point. Rachel McBain knows who Ella is, and Big Janice or whatever her real name is must have seen that he and Ella were an item during her time at Medenham. That, together with his public campaign against Malachi and the New Church, means the girl currently pointing a gun at him is fully aware that he and Ella must be a team.  
He glances briefly to his left, where the drive snakes away in the direction of the mansion, but there's no sign of Ella coming to his rescue. She and Thelma must be busy elsewhere, he thinks with an inner smile, doing Good. He turns his attention back to the blonde in front of him.  
"Yep." He states in answer to her question, knowing that she's going to kill him, but strangely experiencing neither panic or dread.  
Instead, Leon feels only an almost unnatural sense of calm and acceptance. He has simply reached the end of the road, he realises, and thus there is nothing else to fear. We see Ella in flashback, speaking to him a couple of hours earlier;  
"We might not make it out this time." She tells him.  
The camera cuts back to Leon in the present.  
Right as always, he muses internally. That's my girl.  
"Any chance of a last request?" He asks, and Kessel regards him coolly.  
"Alright." She finally says slowly, a note of curiosity and wariness in her voice. "Name it."  
"I always used to wonder," he grins, nodding towards her breasts, "are those real?"  
Kessel looks at him for several seconds. Her eyes narrow slightly, but otherwise there's not a flicker of emotion on her face. Then the corner of her mouth curves upward in an almost-smile. Despite herself, she can't help but admire this boy's bravado in the face of his own imminent death.  
"Yes. 100 natural." She tells him.  
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Leon says.  
"You're welcome." She replies, and there's a lengthy pause before she adds: "If this was a movie, you'd now ask if you could have a feel. Don't even think about it."  
"No fear." Leon says with a short laugh. "I'm faithful."  
Kessel studies him for several moments, reading him.  
"Yes you are." She murmurs. "Ella Dee is a lucky woman."  
Leon shakes his head.  
"I'm the lucky one." He declares.  
Another moment passes. Then Kessel shoots him twice in the chest. As Leon jerks and reacts to the impact of the bullets, the camera immediately goes into extreme close-up, zooming right into his left eye until it fills the screen, as though entering into it. We see what's flashing through Leon's mind;  
He's in the bedroom in Ella's tiny basement flat, lying naked on the mattress with an equally bare Mary Warren underneath him. He's entering into her, but the movement is mechanical, robotic, merely performing a function, without any feeling, passion or closeness. Pure physical action without any emotional attachment. He's not even looking at her, but is instead staring fixatedly at the wall above her head.  
"Look at me Leon." Mary says. "_Please_."  
It's not an order or a demand, but a request – almost a plea. He relents, and shifts his gaze to look at her - and is surprised. The Mary he had known until this moment had been a supremely confident, manipulative, and extremely dangerous individual. Brilliant, frighteningly intelligent, but border-line insane. A smug and taunting immortal being who had meddled with his mind, broken his spirit, and bent him to her will. But the woman underneath him has lowered all her defences. The look on her face and especially in her eyes is merely of a vulnerable, lonely, and stunningly beautiful woman who desperately wants this encounter to mean something beyond the mere physical. Mary reaches up and cups the right side of his face with her hand.  
"Put her out of your mind." She murmurs softly. "Be with me."  
Leon tenses. His expression and shoulders both visually stiffen.  
"Get out of my head." He protests tersely, but Mary sadly shakes her head.  
"I've not read your thoughts." She says, her voice almost a whisper. "I didn't have to. Be with me Leon. Love me…if only until the morning."  
Reaching up with her other hand, she holds his face in both and looks deep into his eyes.  
"Give me this night." She implores him quietly. "Let me have something true and beautiful to give to our child. Allow me to tell our son or daughter that when they were conceived, we were genuine lovers, even if it is just for a few hours. Give me this one thing, Leon. Please…"  
"You don't know what you're asking." He states.  
"I do." Declares the Anointed One. "I'm asking for everything. Please Leon. If not for me, then for our child."  
Human and immortal stare at each other for several long seconds, both with so much to lose.  
"Yes." Leon says, so quietly he can barely be heard, his mind such a maelstrom of conflicting emotions that he's both resigned and surprised by what he's just said.  
Mary raises her head and kisses him, first gently, gratefully, then with increasing want.  
"Our child will be beautiful, Leon." She whispers. "And I'll be so proud when I tell them about their father, and this night."  
What we see next is clearly sometime later: Mary straddling and riding Leon, his hands clamped on her breasts, her hands placed on top of his, both of them crying out as they climax together, his face contorted, hers ecstatic with pleasure. She collapses onto top of him, and the lovers lie exhausted, enjoying the warmth, touch and closeness of each other, nestled together in a private bubble upon which the rest of the world cannot intrude. Leon gently kisses both of her breasts in turn, then tenderly takes her face in both hands, looks at her blissful features and kisses her mouth softly…. then the scene abruptly changes to the following morning, with Mary's smiling, triumphant face just an inch from his.  
"You won't remember until the moment you die." She tells him.  
Cut back to the present, as the camera reverse-zooms out of Leon's eye and away from his stunned, frozen face. Kessel shoots a third time, point blank. The round hits Leon in the centre of the forehead, exits out the back of his head – taking most of the back of his skull and a large amount of brain tissue with it - and buries itself in the tree. Skull fragments and brain matter splatter wetly against the trunk, decorating a wide area of bark.  
Leon dies knowing that he betrayed the only woman he's ever loved in the worst way possible.  
Kessel gazes at what's left of his face;  
"Looking _bad_, Leon." She declares, then she turns and walks briskly away towards the gates and the truck lodged between them.

Cut to Catherine Cotton's face in close-up, horizontal to the camera, her eyes closed. The camera slowly pulls back to reveal that she's lying curled up on a dark green sofa, head resting on the cushion, seemingly asleep.  
She opens her eyes, briefly looks about, then swings her legs round, getting into a sitting position. She looks expectedly over at Mary Warren, who's sitting at the opposite end of the sofa.  
"Yes, the father of my child is dead." Confirms Mary, reaching forward to pick up a glass of cranberry juice that's placed on a low table a few feet in front of the sofa.  
The Anointed One smiles as she raises the glass to her lips;  
"This clinches it. I'm definitely going to spend some quality time with Ella. Can't wait to rub salt into this wound."

Cut to Roxy and Ella in the courtyard, as the latter's mobile phone rings. The Anointed One glances at the call display, which reads 'Thelma'.  
"Thelma. What's happening?" Ella blurts into the phone.  
Cut to the stone circle. Thelma is crouching by the side of the flatbed truck, clutching a pump-action shotgun with one hand and pressing her mobile phone against her ear with the other.  
"I had to abandon the Smart, the terrain got too bad." The ghost whispers. "Although I found a shotgun stashed in the back. Must belong to that guard I clobbered."  
"Have you located Malachi and Amber Chase?" Ella says.  
Thelma cautiously lifts her head and peers over the side of the truck. Malachi is standing in the circle, a bunch of papers in one hand that he keps glancing at, arms aloft and shouting in a strange-sounding language that Thelma doesn't begin to recognise. He looks like an opera singer trying to reach the seats in the back row. Approximately twenty feet in front of Malachi, still within the circle, Amber Chase is tied to the metal poles by taut wire. But that wire is now straining, as Amber's body is seemingly being pulled towards Malachi, as though he's become the centre of a vast gravitional pull that only she is affected by. The girl's torso is arched towards him, with her arms and legs - still bound to the poles - stretched out behind her, holding her back. Amber's underwear is pulled taut around her knees, her skin is pale, feverish and covered in sweat, and the wire restraints are cutting deeply into her flesh, causing blood to flow down her arms from her ravaged wrists and trickle onto the ground from her ankles. The girl's eyes have rolled back and show only white, and her screams - despite her gag - are so loud, agonised, and full of torment, that Thelma would have previously only thought they were possible if a woman was either suffering death by orgasm or giving birth to a thirty pound child.  
"That's affirmative." The wide-eyed ghost repiles with a gulp.  
As Thelma watches, Amber's screams grow louder still, until the spectre is genuinely fearful that the girl is going to explode in a mass of blood and body parts, but then she shudders and jerks violently - and a sphere of bright light, about half the size of a football, suddenly emerges from her breasts. The screams immediately stop, Amber's head drops forward, and her entire body slumps and goes limp. She seems to have passed out. The ball of light hovers in front of Amber, then slowly begins to move through the air towards Malachi.  
"He's extracted the piece of his lifeforce from Amber. He's about to reclaim it." Thelma reports into her mobile in a rushed whisper.  
Her mind races, trying to think of something she can do.  
"Shooting Malachi is out. He's invulnerable to harm." She rapidly mutters into the phone under her breath, before glancing at the luminous orb hovering ever closer to the Fallen Messiah.  
"Life. Energy." Thelma murmurs, an idea stirring.  
She tears her eyes away from the events within the stone circle and looks at the metal barrel of the shotgun.  
"I've got an idea." The ghost announces.  
"Thelma? What are you –" Ella can be heard beginning to ask, but Thelma cuts her short;  
"Maybe I can earth it with a conductor. Like electricity." Thelma theories desperately. "Wish me luck."  
"Thelma! Wait!" Ella's voice blurts out urgently, but the ghost ends the call, shoves the phone into the clip on her belt, and emerges from alongside the truck, shotgun held in both hands and running towards the circle, gathering speed.  
Suddenly aware of movement to his left, Malachi glances over, just in time to see Thelma pass one of the stones, entering the circle, sprinting towards the sphere of lifeforce.  
"NO!" He yells, but the ghost is already just a few feet from the glowing orb.  
Crying out in a mixture of barely-suppressed fear and determination, Thelma leaps high into the air, raising the shotgun above her head, intending to plunge the barrel into the ball of light, then spear it into the ground, earthing the energy so it can be harmlessly absorbed away.  
But she has mistimed her leap, and jumped a second too late and too far. Her lunge overshoots. As she brings the shotgun down, the tip of the barrel travels over and passes down the other side of the luminous sphere, and instead Thelma falls onto the glowing orb, it striking her directly in the face.  
Contact.  
Something dead touches pure, undiluted Life itself. Positive and Negative. Yin and Yang. Total elemental opposites – completely alien and toxic to each other – react the only way they can. Explosively.  
Thelma screams, but her cries are drowned out by an unearthly shriek: the sound of reality itself being torn asunder. Pain – limitless, infinite pain beyond sheer human comprehension – rips through her. Pain on a level that was never intended to be imagined, let alone experienced. Pain the size of the universe.  
If Thelma still possessed a physical body of flesh and bone, then her central nervous system would have burnt out instantly. Instead, it feels as though each and every particle of her non-corporal form has been transformed into a microscopic, white-hot burning sun. One thought flashes through her consciousness. A single word. A name. Then, unable to cope with the incredible sensory overload, her mind shuts down.  
When Thelma leapt, Malachi had the foresight to instinctively fling his arms across his face. Therefore, he isn't blinded when the orb violently and tremendously explodes with a pure white light as bright as the sun and an ear-bursting thunderclap. The Fallen Messiah is tossed several hundred feet backwards through the air, his hair and clothes bursting into flame. He screams as his skin sears and cooks – but his invulnerability saves his life.  
Amber Chase isn't so lucky. In the nano-second following the explosion, the immense heatflare instantaneously vaporises her eyes, hair, clothes and skin, and the exposed raw flesh underneath is immediately fried into blackened, charred meat. The sturdy metal poles to which she is tied are bent and twisted by the force of the explosion, and torn loose from the ground. What's left of Amber Chase is blown away like a leaf in a hurricane.  
The eight stones that form the circle take the brunt of the unleashed energy, and explode into fragments. The initial sound of the explosion shatters the windows and lights of the flatbed truck, and when the physical shockwave strikes the vehicle a split-second later, it is lifted and tossed weightlessly end over end, it's large front and rear bumpers striking and repeatedly gouging out heavy clods of earth.

Cut to the helicopter landing area. Ella and Roxy both jerk their heads round as a wall of expanding white light sweeps across the mansion, turning night into day. Her face transformed into a mask of horrified realisation, Ella feels her heart jump up into her throat.  
"Thelma." She murmurs fearfully, the word almost immediately drowned out by the deep heavy rumble that follows the glare.  
The shockwave hits the grand country house, simultaneously shattering every window that hadn't already been broken by the earlier detonations. Even as the numerous glass fragments are blown inwards, the very ground ripples in a visible line across the landing area. It passes under the wreckage of the helicopter - which lifts, shudders and tilts before settling again - then reaches Ella, who struggles to keep her balance, looking like a surfer riding a wave, while Roxy is sent sprawling, arms outscretched, and lands flat on her face. Sweeping past them, the rippling effect travels to the house, and a dozen individual bricks burst as the mansion shifts and groans on its foundations. Then it's over. The glare fades and the retreating gloom of twilight returns.

Cut the helicopter containing Alex, at the outer-most part of it's circuit around the boundary of the McBain estate, and being tossed about as though it has been grabbed by a giant hand and then shaken. Eyes wide and fearful, mouth taut, the succubus has grabbed hold of the interior of the aircraft and is clinging on, while audible warning signals repeat, and alongside her the pilot desperately fights the controls as the instrument panel erupts in a display of sparks and wispy white smoke. After several seconds, the turbulance decreases, and the pilot is able to regain control. Not allowed the luxury of panic, he manages to remain level-headed, and quickly checks the instruments.  
"We've lost all the electrics." He reports. "All burnt out. There doesn't seem to be any fires though. We're flying solely on manual, the old fashioned way."  
If Alex hears him, she gives no sign. Instead, she sits with her eyes still staring wide open, clinging to a metal strut with one hand, while the fingernails of her other hand are digging into the edge of the seat.  
"The rotors are holding together, thank God. And the mechanical systems seem okay." The pilot continues.  
Upon hearing these words, Alex suddenly snaps back into life;  
"God had nothing to do with it." She declares. "Go back to the circle. Find my husband."  
"We've substained serious damage." The pilot says. "We're still airborne, and the aircraft is responsive, but we should land as soon as possible."  
"We find my husband first." Alex states firmly, in a tone that brooks no argument.  
The pilot would have continued to insist that it wasn't safe, were it not for the fact that he could have sworn his passenger's eyes briefly glowed yellow when she had spoken. A trick of the light, no doubt. What else could it be? But even so, he changes course and flies back towards the stone circle... while looking straight ahead and not even risking a sideways glance at the girl alongside him.  
Alex gazes down at the landscape below. Every tree within sight has been uprooted, all apparently fanning out from where the circle of standing stones is located, a short distance away. As the helicopter gets closer to the circle, she sees more fallen trees, hedges, shrubbery and grasses that have all been burnt black or are still on fire. Nearer still, and they've been reduced to ash.  
"What just happened?" She murmurs.

Cut the the helicopter landing area at the mansion. Roxy is slowly getting to her feet. She looks awestruck.  
"What was that?" The ghost murmurs softly, apprehensively.  
Ella is looking in the direction that the blast came from. Roxy has never seen the Anointed One look so pale and vulnerable before.  
"Thelma." Ella eventually says, quietly. "Something's happened... something's happened to Thelma."

Cut to Jo's bedroom. The ex-teacher is on her hands and knees in front of Azazeal, facing away from him and wailing loudly, her body shuddering and rocking back and forth as he vigorously, repeatedly enters her. The Nephilim's hands are placed on Jo's hips, holding her firmly in place, the strength and frequency of his thrusting constantly increasing.  
"Yes!! Use me!!" Jo shouts, and the Nephilim responds by entering her with such ferocity that it pitches her forward onto her elbows, and he pulls her backwards by the hips to meet his next thrust, her body as limp as a rag doll.  
This continues for several seconds, then his cries almost drown out hers, as both of them reach an immensely powerful mutual crescendo.  
"Ma - Malachi!!" Jo screams out, which causes Azazeal to laugh heartily as he withdraws and collapses back exhausted onto the bed.

Cut to the helicopter containing Alex. The succubus is intently studying the ground, looking for any kind of familiar landmark, but there's nothing. Everything vertical has been flattened or blown away, anything else has been vaporised. All she can see below is featureless, scorched earth. The aircraft reaches where memory tells her the stone circle was located - now there's a crater over a hundred yards across and almost forty feet deep at it's lowest point. The explosion has blasted through the soil, down to the layers of rock underneath. Alex looks frantically about, and after several seconds spots a huddled shape lying another hundred yards further from the crater.  
"THERE!" She yells, pointing. "Put me down over there! NOW!"  
We cut to approximately a minute later. The huddled shape is in the immediate foreground. The helicopter is in the background, about twenty five yards away, having landed on three retractable wheels, it's rotors still turning at full speed. Alex has already vacated the aircraft and is running towards the shape. She slows down as she reaches it and gazes at the figure. Bile suddenly flows up from her stomach and she fights the urge to vomit. The shape is human, naked, lying on it's side with it's back to her and curled into a foetal position, with every visible inch of it's skin horribly burnt. The smell of over-cooked meat hangs heavy in the air. Alex stands still until she's sure she won the battle against her gag reflex. Then she cautiously crouches down next to the figure.  
"Malachi?" She says over the sound of the helicopter. "Can you hear me?"  
No response. The figure is without hair on it's head or anywhere on it's body - it's all been burnt off. Alex carefully reaches out, takes hold of the shape's arm, wincing as she touches the damaged, vulnerable skin, and slowly turns him over. Her eyes widen and she again feels the taste of bile in her throat, so she claps a protective hand over her mouth. Malachi's nose is gone. All that is left is a ridge of semi-melted gristle around his now-exposed nasal passages. His lips have also been burnt away and his gums have shrivelled and retreated, lengthing the appearance of his teeth and giving him a permanently exposed death's-head smile. The eyelids on his right eye have been completely seared off, and while his left eye has retained it's upper lid, it's been reduced to a useless, blackened flap. His exposed eyeballs are dim and unfocused. Instinctively looking away, Alex's gaze falls on her husband's chest. To her amazement, she can see the faint outline of the elaborate pattern of the shirt he was wearing, as though the heat has tattooed the design into his skin. There are also small nuggets embedded in his burnt flesh in an almost vertical line from his chest to his groin, each one a few inches apart. Alex realises they are the buttons of his shirt, which have melted and fused onto him.  
"Malachi!" She tries again. "It's me, Alex."  
The exposed eyeballs suddenly shift and seem to focus. His head tilts slightly in her direction and one of his arms twitches. The teeth open and close with a clicking sound, and glimpsing between them the succubus can see her husband's tongue working in his mouth.  
"Alex..." Malachi murmurs, his voice so faint she has to strain to hear it over the helicopter's engine.  
"Yes! Yes, it's me, my love." Alex gushes, instantly bursting into tears with relief. "Don't worry, we'll get you to a hospital."  
"No." He says, still faint but with a surprisingly firm tone. "Take me home... Take me to Jo."  
"But you're hurt." His wife protests. "You need to -"  
"We both know... there's nothing... doctors can do." He tells her, the large eyes fixing on her. "Only Jo... can help me."  
"You can't trust her. She betrayed you." Alex reminds him, leaning in close, her tear-streaked face only a couple of inches from his. "Kept things from you."  
"Yes... and she'll answer for that." Malachi declares. "But right now... I need her... I need... my mother."  
Alex looks at his horribly burnt features for a long moment. Then she sets her jaw and nods.  
"Can you walk?" She asks.  
"I... don't know." Her husband replies. "I... I think I'll... need some help."  
Shifting position to better assist him, Alex takes her hand away from Malachi's arm. To her horror, a large piece of his skin comes off with it, clinging to her palm and fingers, and she's unable to surpress a shudder. Then she steels herself and moves next to him, lifting his arm and placing it over her shoulders, while slipping her own arm around his back, holding him tight. The succubus lifts, helping her husband to his feet, taking most of his weight and steadying him. The two of them slowly walk towards the helicopter, Alex supporting Malachi as he leans against her.

Cut to Azazeal and Jo lying in each other arms, partly covered by the sheets on her bed. The Nephilim is regarding the ex-teacher curiously.  
"What?" Jo asks impishly, noticing his gaze.  
"Malachi has really gotten to you, hasn't he?" The angel enquires. "You called out his name."  
Jo smiles bashfully;  
"Jealous?" She challenges.  
"You know me better than that." Azazeal smiles in return. "But to cry out his name while in the throes of passion... Do you love him?"  
"Of course." Counters Jo. ""I raised and nurtured him. I've been a mentor, guardian and single parent to him. He's my son. My only child."  
"Cassie's child." The angel corrects her, playfully tapping the tip of her nose with his forefinger.  
"It's a little too late to play those games. You've already admitted you only wanted Cassie for her womb, remember?" Jo declares, smiling knowingly. "You're becoming forgetful in your old age."  
"Being with you makes me forgetful." The Nephilim replies warmly. "But even so, very few mothers sleep with their offspring, no matter how devoted to them they are."  
"True." Jo admits. "But Malachi is more than a son to me. You assigned me the task of looking after him, and from that moment he became my reason for being. The purpose of my existance. Originally I did it solely to please you, but over time things changed. Yes... I suppose it's true to say that he's so important to me, he's become the love of my life."  
"I thought I was the love of your life?" Azazeal queries, raising an eyebrow.  
"And I thought you weren't jealous." The ex-teacher bats back.  
"Touche." The angel concides, and Jo giggles, then rests her head on his chest.  
"If it's any consolation, he's can't compete with you in bed, exceptional though he is. You give more multiple orgasms. And they're much more intense." She offers.  
"Your attempts to smooth my bruised ego are duly noted, and gratefully received." The Nephilim says with a wry smile.  
"You know, if I'd been a McBain instead of Cassie, I wouldn't have fought you." Jo tells him. "I'd have given myself to you willingly. I would have gladly borne a whole brood of your children."  
"One would have sufficed." The Nephlim comments.  
"Yes, but it's always useful to have a spare. And besides.. think of all the fun we could have had, providing him with a few brother and sisters." Jo hypothesizes.  
"You really are an insatiable little minx." Azazeal sighs happily, then he laughs: "If just one of the McBain women had been like you, the world would have ended centuries ago. As it is, that time is almost near. You've done an excellent job of guiding Malachi to this point, and now that his powers are reaching their zenith, I'm here to oversee him as he brings about the final stages. We will stand together as father and son, as the End of Days is finally unleashed."  
Jo's mobile phone, on the dressing table at the opposite end of the room, starts to ring. The ex-teacher climbs off of the bed, picks a sheer black silk dressing gown off the floor, and puts it on while walking towards the phone.  
"Don't get dressed on my account." Insists Azazeal, smiling.  
"You'll just have all the fun of ripping it off me, won't you?" Jo says over her shoulder, as she picks up the mobile.  
The call display reads 'Corvide'.  
"Yes?" Jo says.  
"It's done." We hear Corvide reply.  
"Excellent. Inform your mother, and liase with Perie." The ex-teacher instructs her quietly, then she ends the call.  
"Good news I hope?" The Nephilim enquires cheerfully.  
Jo is in the foreground, her face taking up most of the screen. We can see Azazeal in the background, still relaxing in the bed behind her. Jo replies without turning round;  
"Yes indeed, my love. You have _no_ idea." She declares with a smile.  
We see her eyes start to glow red.

Cut to Ella and Roxy running past the outermost buildings that form part of the mansion and emerging onto the gravel drive. The estate grounds stretch out in front of them, and they pause for a second to get their bearings, trying to establish the precise direction the blast came from. Ella suddenly detects movement to her left, out of the corner of her eye, and turns her head to look properly.  
Mephistopheles is approaching them, about fifty yards away, walking along the driveway, which curls away behind him. The demon is wearing his usual black suit and dark shirt, and is carrying somebody, holding them to his chest. No, not _some_body – a _body_, lying limply in Mephistopheles' arms and with most of it's head missing. Then Ella recognises the clothes that the corpse is wearing.  
"No..." She murmurs, so softly and heartfelt that it almost sounds like a sigh.  
The Anointed One starts to run towards Mephistopheles and his burden, but barely takes a step before the full impact of what's happened hits her like a blow in the stomach. All the strength in her legs just drains away and she pitches onto her knees, remaining there with a numb, haunted look frozen on her face, never taking her eyes from Leon's body as the demon brings it towards her. A stunned-looking Roxy comes and stands alongside Ella as Mephistopheles reaches them.  
"I'm most sorry." He says, crouching down in front of Ella. "If it's any consolation, I don't think he suffered much."  
The Anointed One looks at her lover's corpse as though dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Her face is deathly pale, and her lower lip is trembling slightly. Slowly, hesitatively, she reaches out, her eyes starting to shine with unshed tears, and Mephistopheles carefully places Leon down so that what's left of his head rests in the crook of her arm, while his shoulders and upper back are in her lap. The demon straightens up as Ella cradles Leon's ruined face against her breasts.  
"He had a good soul. That's a rare thing." Mephistopheles murmurs. "I liked him."  
The demon glances at Roxy, who is looking at Ella gently hugging Leon's corpse and is clearly unsure what to say.  
"Miss Davenport, we've not been introduced. I am known as Mephistopheles." He announces, and Roxy nods;  
"I've heard of you." The ghost says.  
"Nothing good, I'll wager." The demon replies. "I regret that we could not meet under better circumstances."  
Ella suddenly looks up at Mephistopheles, emerging from her fog of grief;  
"How did…who…?" The Anointed One blurts out, trying to make sense of it.  
"I found him close to a burnt-out vehicle with four bodies inside. The McBain descendants you came to rescue, including your young associate." The demon explains.  
"Midge?" Ella says, disbelievingly.  
"I'm afraid so." Mephistopheles confirms.  
"Perie?" The Anointed One asks, still bewildered, but with a hint of anger in her voice as she says the name.  
"I suspect she may have dispatched the young women in the vehicle, but in regards to Mr. Taylor, no." Mephistopheles says with a shake of the head, and gestures at the bandages and makeshift splints on the corpse. "I recognise that handiwork. Perie treated his minor injuries, which I suppose means she was also responsible for them. But she wouldn't have bothered tending to him if she was intending to kill him. I believe he was alive when she left him. I'm afraid there's a very _human_ stench all over Mr. Taylor's death."  
Ella seems to dimly accept this. Remaining lucid and focused is too overwhelming, too painful, and her mind already retreating back into numbed despair. She gazes down at Leon, still supporting the remains of his head with her arm, and stroking bloody and brain-matter decorated strands of his hair with her other hand, seemingly oblivious of anything else. Looking sadly at Ella, Mephistopheles then shifts his gaze to Roxy;  
"Will you stay with her?" He asks the ghost. "I think it's best that I go and see what's happened to Miss Bates."  
"Of course." Murmurs Roxy.  
The demon acknowledges this with a nod, and with a final glance at Ella, he turns and sets off, walking purposely across the grounds. Roxy watches her stricken friend, helpless to do anything else. Hearing a helicopter flying low and close by, the ghost turns her head and looks about, scanning the sky above the mansion, but unable to see it because of all the smoke.  
"It must be Malachi." She says loudly for Ella's benefit. "Whatever that was, he's still alive. He's leaving."  
Roxy looks back at the Anointed One, who is now silently crying, tears falling from her eyes onto Leon's ravaged features. There's no indication whether she heard Roxy or not.

Cut to the interior of the helicopter. Malachi is sitting in the rear of the aircraft, barely conscious. Alex has given him her cream leather overcoat, which he's clutching around himself like a blanket. The succubus is next to the pilot in the front, her eyes scanning the ground below.  
"We have to land as soon as possible." The pilot is insisting. "I can't guarantee our safety."  
"And as I've told you, first we're picking up my friend, as I promised." Alex calmly but firmly replies. "Then, once we're clear of this estate, set a course for the nearest airfield. We'll land there and either charter another 'copter, or summon one from our fleet. Whichever's quickest."  
Although clearly still unhappy, the pilot nods, accepting the compromise.  
We cut to an overhead shot, looking down on Shannon, lying unconscious on her back, her knees slightly bent. The camera slowly pans in for a close-up of the succubus's pock-marked face, the eye-patch still resting on her forehead. We can hear the sound of the helicopter approaching, getting louder. The beam from the aircraft's search-light moves into frame, illuminating Shannon's scarred features. She suddenly opens her eyes, her good eye staring directly at us.

Cut to Ella, still cradling and weeping over Leon, with Roxy standing a couple of feet away, bearing silent witness. Moving closer to the Anointed One, Roxy tentatively reaches out with her hand and tries to place it on Ella's shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it passes straight through the immortal and Roxy jerks it back by her side, frustrated at her inability to comfort her friend.  
..._crunch...crunch...crunch_... Footsteps on the gravel behind them, coming from the direction of the main house. Roxy turns and sees Perie walking confidently and unhurriedly towards them, smiling enigmatically. Directly behind her, the mansion is fully ablaze, engulfed in smoke and flames. The faerie looks as though she's striding out of Hell.  
"Ella..." Roxy murmurs nervously, but the Anointed One gives no sign of having heard her.  
Reaching them, Perie casts an eye over Roxy and then gazes at Ella hugging Leon's body.  
"You seem to have a habit of collecting dead people, I see." The faerie observes.  
Perie's voice snaps Ella out of her mental insolation. The Anointed One looks up sullenly, the eyes beneath her fringe no longer crying, tears drying on her reddened cheeks. The faerie nudges one of Leon's legs with the toe of her boot.  
"And unfortunately my good intentions regarding your lover clearly came to naught." Perie continues brightly. "You have my condolences."  
"I have trouble believing that you care." Ella murmurs, each word heavy with dulled anger.  
"And you are right to do so." The faerie confirms, smile never wavering.  
At that point, Perie's mobile phone rings.  
"Please do excuse me for a moment." She says, producing the phone from a pocket in her jacket, putting it to her ear and taking the call. "Yes?"  
Several seconds pass. The faerie's expression doesn't change, and is unreadable. Ella looks at Leon, finds part of his face that is still intact and free of blood, then leans down and kisses it softly.  
"I'm sorry." She whispers.  
Slowly, carefully, the Anointed One places Leon on the ground and releases her hold on him, straightening her back but remaining on her knees.  
"I see. Thank you." Perie is saying into her mobile.  
The faerie ends the call and stows the phone away.  
"There have been developments." She announces. "One of my employers wishes to meet you."  
"And I suppose you're going to take us there?" Ella queries, slowly getting up off her knees and facing Perie.  
Stood with her hands by her sides, the Anointed One pointedly balls them into fists.  
"You can try." The red-headed immortal says firmly.  
A moment passes. Roxy glances nervously at the two eternals as they face off. Perie's smile is ever-present.  
"That will not be necessary." The faerie informs them, a hint of amusement in her voice. "She is coming to us."  
As if on cue, there's an unearthy shriek as a portal of brilliant white light - seven feet tall and three feet wide, with edges as flat and straight as any doorway - simply opens in the fabric of reality, just a couple of feet to the right of Perie. A figure steps through, and a second later the portal closes vertically and vanishes as instantly as it appeared. With the glare of the portal now gone, Ella and Roxy are able to see the newcomer clearly. A woman, slim and very tall, apparently in her early thirties with sleek jet black hair that almost reaches down to her waist. She's wearing a well-fitted dark red leather trenchcoat that goes below the knee, a tight black top that displays an abundant cleavage, matching trousers that cling to a pair of seemingly endless legs, and black high-heeled ankle boots. Her face is astounding beautiful, with features that could only be accurately described as perfect, and she coolly gazes at the Anointed One and Roxy with eyes that are a dazzlingly-bright pure green.  
Ella has never seen this woman before, but instinctively knows who she is.  
"Lilith." The Anointed One murmurs in recognition. "The Mother of Beasts. The Demon Goddess. The First Woman."

On-screen caption: To Be Continued.


	14. Five Year Plan

**Episode #14: Five Year Plan.**

Previously on Hex: a brief clip from Episode #3 - Jo asking "How are the talks proceeding?" and Lilith replying "An agreement has almost been reached/I understand that the Annointed One has re-emerged?" Jo nods: "Ella Dee. I'm hoping to use her interference to our advantage."  
Clips from Episode #9 - Maya saying " I saw something erupt out of Hell. It had glowing red eyes./I saw some of The Fallen flying around it./They seemed to be scared of it."; Malachi dangling the Stone of Belial in front of Jo, and her asking "What did you have to trade to obtain it?" Malachi boasting "I blackmailed Thelma. Told her that if she didn't get it for me, I'd let that girlfriend of her's remain in Hell." Jo smiling enigmatically as she comments "Hell. Really."  
A brief clip from Episode #12 - Mary Warren saying "Your lover – Maya? – didn't go to Hell, did she? Want to know why?"  
More clips from Episode #9 - Ella saying "The Necronomicon is said to be the Bible of the Old Ones. Also refered to as the Elder Gods./They've spent eons of time staring at the Universe from the other side of reality./It's said that only the original Necronomicon can be used to contact them, or perhaps even bring them across to this realm."; Jo placing the Necronomicon on the bottom shelf of her wall safe, underneath the shelf comtaining the Grand Grimlore, and declaring "We now have the means to destroy the world… or create it anew."; Mary Warren saying "The Malachi situation is irretrievable/It's what comes afterwards that I'm preparing for."; Perie, speaking to Jo via mobile phone, asking "And the Anointed One?" Jo replies into her own mobile "There's still a vital part we need her to play, once the other pieces have been put into position."  
Another clip from Episode #12 - Mary Warren saying "You're still occupying yourselves with a story that's already finished."  
Clips from Episode #13 - a wounded Midge lying in the upturned 4x4, muttering "Bollocks", followed by the vehicle exploding.; Kessel shooting Leon twice in the chest and once in the forehead.; Thelma running into the stone circle while clutching the shotgun, leaping and plunging into the hovering orb of Malachi's lifeforce.; The resulting explosion, with Malachi - engulfed in flames - being hurtled backwards through the air.; A fearful Ella murmuring "Something's happened to Thelma."; Corvide sitting down behind the desk in Jo's darkened office.; Jo answering her mobile phone and Corvide's voice saying "It's done." Azazeal relaxing in Jo's bed, asking "Good news I hope?" Jo smiling as she declares "Yes indeed, my love. You have no idea."; The portal opening and Lilith stepping through. Ella identifying her "Lilith. The Mother of Beasts. The Demon Goddess. The First Woman." 

Rachel McBain's country estate. We're continuing immediately after the conclusion of Episode #13, with Ella, Roxy, Perie, and the newly-arrived Lilith standing on the gravel driveway. Leon's body lies at Ella's feet, and Rachel's mansion is burning in the background.  
"The First Woman?" Roxy murmurs nervously in response to Ella's remarks regarding Lilith.  
"I was created to be Adam's wife." Lilith explains, her voice a warm purr, without any noticeable accent. "Personally designed and crafted by God to be perfect in every way. And as I had been created equal, I asked that my husband treat me as an equal. Not an unreasonable request, I thought. But Adam didn't see it that way. And, being a man, God agreed with him."  
"All boys together." Comments Perie.  
"Indeed." Lilith says. "And the price I paid for being the original feminist was being exiled from Eden, and replaced by a ditzy bimbo made from one of my husband's ribs in the skewed belief this would make her subservient."  
She half-shrugs in amusement before continuing;  
"I had to make my own way in the world, outside of God's plan. He had originally intended me to be the Mother of the human race, but as that was no longer an option I decided to create a race of my own."  
"The Lilin." Ella remarks coldly.  
"My babies." Lilith confirms with a smile. "No mother could be prouder."  
"And now you've formed an alliance with Malachi." The Anointed One says, making it a statement, not a question.  
"Hardly." Lilith replies. "But before we go any further, we'd best wait to learn of your friend's fate. If she's still capable, you may need her as back-up. There are things you'll both need to know. And I hate having to explain myself twice."  
"Back-up? For what?" Ella asks cautiously.  
Lilith looks expectantly at Perie, silently giving the faerie permission to break the news;  
"We want you to do what you were born to do. To fulfil your purpose as an Anointed One." Perie states simply. "Kill Malachi."  
The camera cuts to a close-up of Ella, an expression of stunned surprise on her face.  
"What?" She mutters. 

On-screen caption: Six years ago.  
We're in Roxy's room at Medenham. The camera pans round, taking in the various prints on the walls, discarded clothing flung on the floor or hung over the back of a chair, assorted trinkets gathered on shelves, cosmetics and hygiene products fighting for space on a crowded, over-laden dressing table, until it finally reaches the bed. There's a human-shaped lump under the duvet, with a smooth feminine foot poking out, hanging over the side of the bed, toes pointing down. Apart from the faint sound of soft breathing emerging from under the duvet, the room is utterly silent. Then someone knocks on the door. This does not elicit any response from the inhabitant of the bed, and after a few seconds the door opens and Gemma pokes her head round.  
"Roxs?" She murmurs.  
Seeing the slumbering mass, she enters, quietly closes the door behind her, and goes and sits on the bed. Reaching out, she tickles the sole of the errant foot with her fingertips. The foot reacts and the lump under the duvet stirs, grumbling something unintelligible as it does so. Roxy throws back a corner of the duvet while rolling over onto her back, yawning and stretching out a bare arm.  
"Afternoon." Gemma says pointedly.  
Still mid-yawn, Roxy glances over at the clock on her bedside table.  
"Oh crap." She mutters, the words emerging out of the end of her yawn. "I'm sorry."  
"My cab's waiting." Gemma reports. "But I used my best come-to-bed eyes on the driver and asked him dreamily if he wouldn't start the meter until we set off, because I had to say goodbye to My Best Friend" (she places extra emphasis on the words) "who was _supposed_ to be seeing me off."  
"Sorry. Sorry." A flustered Roxy warbles sincerely, waving a hand in surrender.  
Then she gazes at her friend for two long seconds.  
"So this is it, then." Roxy murmurs.  
"Yes." Gemma says with a calm smile and a nod.  
"Still think you're making a mistake." Roxy declares simply.  
"Could be." Gemma admits. "But there's a chance that Troy could be The One. Maybe it won't work out. But I don't want to look back, years from now, and regret not trying when I had the chance."  
"I have to ask… what happened - with you and me… did it influence your decision to go? Things haven't been the same between us, have they?" Roxy ventures.  
In response, Gemma reaches across and gently squeezes her friend's hand;  
"Yeah, things have been a bit awkward lately, and yeah, it may have been a factor," she tells Roxy, "but if I was staying we would have gotten past it. I know we would have."  
"Still friends then?" Roxy asks hopefully.  
"Still friends." Gemma confirms with another squeeze. "I've no regrets, Roxs. It helped me answer a few questions I had about myself. And speaking of which, there's something I have to ask you, before I go."  
"What's that?" Roxy enquires.  
"Thelma." Gemma states simply, letting the word hang in the air.  
Roxy's body tenses under the duvet, and she glances away from Gemma for the briefest of moments, but then meets her friend's gaze.  
"What about her?" The long-haired brunette says coolly.  
"I always wondered why you gave her and Cassie such a hard time." Gemma murmurs. "Far worse than the treatment you give to anybody else. And then two days after Thelma died, before they'd even buried her, you dragged me up here, stuck your tongue down my throat, and ripped my knickers off."  
"So?" Says Roxy with a shrug, trying to sound casual and mostly succeeding: "I don't recall you complaining."  
"That's not the point Roxs." Counters Gemma patiently. "And it's not just that, either. Remember last year, those times when we hooked up with boys in town and had either threesomes or foursomes? I watched you with them. With men, you used to hold something of yourself back. You had to be in control. You were never as relaxed, as giving, as… as _exuberant_ as you were when it was just the two of us."  
"Gemma –" Roxy begins, but her friend cuts her off with another gentle squeeze.  
"I think deep down, you'd always been bi-curious, but you just didn't know it." Gemma interjects softly. "You were in denial. And then you came here and met Thelma."  
Gemma pauses to fish something out of the pocket of her jeans, then unfolds it and passes it to Roxy. It's a photograph, creased and frayed: a group shot taken in a bar or nightclub. Roxy and Gemma are in the centre, with Leon, Troy, Shannon, and Monika crowded round them. Everyone is smiling and/or raising their glasses in the direction of the camera. Just visible in the background over Monika's shoulder, clearly caught in shot while walking past, is Thelma.  
"She was really special, wasn't she?" Gemma says, making it a statement instead of a question. "A real individual. Wore what she wanted, said whatever the hell she liked, and didn't give a damn what anybody thought of her. Gay and proud of it. I didn't really appreciate what 'in-your-face sexuality' was, until I met her. I'd never encountered anyone like her before… and I'm guessing you hadn't, either. And that's why you were such a bitch to her, isn't it?"  
The question is spoken without any anger or suggestion of accusation. Gemma is once again merely stating a fact.  
"She woke something in you." Gemma continues quietly. "Made you aware of feelings you didn't know you had. Feelings you couldn't control. You wanted her, and that scared you."  
Roxy doesn't say anything. Instead she merely gazes sadly at the photo.  
"So you got all defensive." Gemma murmurs. "You dealt with your confusion, your fear, by taking it out on her. Typical diversion tactic. Deep down, you blamed her for how she was making you feel. It's a common human trait - we always either try to destroy what scares us… or what we can't have. And that's why you were a bitch to Cassie as well. It wasn't just that she was Thelma's friend, and therefore guilty by association. It was because even a blind man could see that Thelma had the hots for her. You were jealous."  
Gemma turns Roxy's hand over and begins tracing a circle in the palm with the tip of her forefinger.  
"And when Thelma died, you panicked and seduced me. You wanted to know if you could capture with someone else what you felt for her. Am I right?" Gemma prods.  
Still gazing at the photo, a shame-faced Roxy nods, any pretence gone. Placing the photo on the bed between them, she raises her eyes and looks at her friend.  
"I'm sorry Gemma." She states sadly. "I never meant to use you as a substitute. At least, that wasn't my intention. I –"  
Roxy pauses and sighs. She looks deflated.  
"I really am a total bitch, aren't I." She mutters flatly.  
Gemma responds by lifting Roxy's hand to her mouth and softly kissing it before speaking;  
"Only in a good way." She remarks with a knowing smile. "And like I said, no regrets. I had questions of my own. If someone like you couldn't turn me, then I must be straight."  
Roxy manages a subdued smile;  
"How did you get to be so smart and understanding?" She asks wryly.  
"It's a gift." Gemma declares with a grin. "Now I'd better go. If I keep that cab-driver waiting any longer, he'll be expecting me to sleep with him."  
"Barter him down to a hand-job." Roxy volleys back, and they both giggle.  
Gemma gives Roxy's hand a final squeeze.  
"Goodbye Roxs." She murmurs, then leans in and kisses the brunette on the lips.  
Roxy responds, and as the two of them close their eyes and enjoy this last moment together, Gemma slides her free hand towards Roxy, then suddenly reaches up, slips it under the duvet and gropes the other girl's breast. Roxy squeals in surprise and breaks off the kiss, looking at her friend in amused mock-indignation.  
"What?" A smiling Gemma says, unabashed. "Even a confirmed straight girl like me can appreciate a great rack. But now I gotta go."  
She stands up. Roxy goes to give her the photo back, but Gemma shakes her head;  
"Keep it." She declares. "Happier times. Look at it every now and again and remember me. Remember her."  
"I will." Roxy says. "Thank you. Not just for this," she gestures with the photo "but for just now. The talk… everything."  
"You're welcome." Gemma murmurs with a slight nod, then bends down and gives Roxy a quick peck on the cheek.  
"I meant it, you know." She says softly, close to her friend's ear. "If it didn't work with you, it won't with anyone."  
She straightens, and the two of them share a final, silent look, then Gemma simply turns and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind her. Roxy remains sitting, gazing at the door for several seconds. She picks up the photo and looks at Thelma's image.  
"Why did you have to come here?" She asks. "Why did you have to be so odd, and annoying, and loud, and funny, and wonderful? Why did you have to die?"  
Nobody answers. After a few moments, Roxy places the photo under her pillow, lays flat and closes her eyes while producing a sad and resigned sigh. 

On-screen caption: Two years ago.  
A graveyard, in the middle of the night. It's raining steadily. A cloaked and hooded figure stands in an unearthed grave, using a long-handled spade to heave the last remaining amount of earth up onto the mount of soil by the graveside. Reaching up and placing the spade on the grass on the other side of the grave, the figure picks up a crowbar that was already lying there. Standing next to the bar is a small but bright battery-powered lantern that is illuminating the scene. The inscription on the headstone at one end of the grave can be seen. It reads: MADELINE THAWN. And underneath: GOD HAD MERCY BECAUSE SHE DID NOT. The hooded figure bends down and uses their free hand to wipe away the layer of wet mud still lying on the coffin, then inserts the end of the crowbar under the casket's lid, finds leverage, and pushes upwards. The lid gives way with a snap and a creaking sound, and the figure raises it a few inches, then takes hold of the edge and lifts the lid clear of the coffin, propping it against the damp earthen side of the grave, before turning their attention to the interior of the casket. The figure bends down, out of our sight, and after a couple of seconds straightens back up, now holding a short slim package, wrapped in soft white cloth. The light from the lantern enables the figure to see clearly as they hold the package in one hand and carefully unwrap it with the other. The folds of white material are peeled back... to reveal the two halves of a Volta staff. 

On-screen caption: Now.  
The flat rooftop of a glass and steel office block, somewhere in London. Mary Warren and Catherine Cotton stride across towards the raised buttress that runs around the edge. Catherine is wearing a denim jacket and jeans, both bleached white, with equally white trainers, while Mary is clad in her bright blue leather biker's jacket, matching skin-tight trousers and high-heeled boots. Leaning on the buttress, both women gaze out over the city.  
"The world is changing, C." Declares Mary, smiling. "Can you feel it? Today is when it all happens."  
The camera cuts to Mary and Catherine's view of London, and pans across the metropolis. It's still early, and the capital is mostly quiet, peaceful, slumbering. We cut back to the Anointed One and her disciple;  
"Get ready, you poor saps." Mary murmurs cheerfully.  
Opening titles. 

Laughing and giggling, and without a care in the world, Thelma is relaxing in a sunken jacuzzi with Abi Titmuss and Danni Minogue, sandwiched between the two of them. Abi is nibbling Thelma's ear, while Danni gently massages and kisses the ghost's shoulders. Hudson Leick suddenly breaks the surface of the bubbling, frothing water. Wearing a white bikini, the blonde American climbs out the jacuzzi, sits on the surrounding patio with her lower legs still dangling in the water, and starts to recite whole passages of dialogue from _Xena: Warrior Princess_. Spotting movement to her right, Thelma sees Famke Janssen and Melanie Chisholm, both in skimpy waitresses' uniforms, walking towards them and each carrying a large plate plied high with cocktail sausages. Upon reaching the jacuzzi, the two brunettes kick off their high-heeled shoes, kneel down on the patio and take turns in feeding Thelma the sausages by hand, as Abi switches her attention to the ghost's other ear.  
"I could get used to this." Thelma announces with her mouth full.  
There's a sudden flurry of activity as all five members of Girls Aloud run giggling onto the patio, dressed in the teeniest bikinis Thelma has ever seen, and start spraying each other with Super Soaker guns. Glancing at her two personal waitresses, the ghost sees that Famke and Mel C. are passionately kissing each other, but somehow manages to tear her eyes away from that glorious sight when she realises that Nadine Coyle and Nicola Roberts have discarded the water guns and started rubbing baby oil onto each other bodies.  
"Now _this_ is Heaven." Thelma mumbles happily, still chewing on a sausage.  
Suddenly there's complete silence. The giggling, splashing, and hungry moaning from Famke and Sporty Spice all stops in an instant. Thelma looks about in alarm: it's as though Time has stopped. All the various celebrities are frozen in place, mid-activity, like statues. Even the water droplets from the Super Soaker guns are suspended in mid-air. The ghost reluctantly squeezes out from between the immobile Abi and Dannii, moves to the centre of the jacuzzi and turns in a circle, gazing at the bizarre scene all around her.  
"Okay, this is officially the creepiest thing I've experienced in a long time." Thelma murmurs nervously.  
"Actually, I was going for 'eerie' but thank you for the compliment." Declares a voice.  
The ghost turns to look in the direction the voice came from. A woman in her mid-twenties with shoulder-length raven-black hair is walking towards the sunken hot-tub. She's wearing a black corset with matching thong, suspender belt, fishnet stockings and stilettos. Completing the outfit is a sweeping crimson ankle-length hooded cloak. As she reaches the edge of the Jacuzzi, she simply keeps walking – but instead of falling into the water with an almighty splash, she actually walks on the liquid's surface, as though it's perfectly solid, despite the fact that Thelma is standing up to her waist in it.  
Reaching the ghost, the woman crouches down, gazing at Thelma face-to-face. The spectre can now see that he newcomer has deathly pale skin, un-naturally long, thick eyelashes and is wearing dark grey eye-shadow and black lip-gloss.  
"Who are you?" Thelma blurts out.  
"The Mistress Devora." The woman announces, and the ghost stares at her for a moment before replying;  
"You're got to be kidding." Thelma deadpans.  
"It's my name, for what it is." Devora counters. "And you're trespassing."  
"I'm what?" Thelma sputters, increasingly confused.  
"This is my realm," the cloaked woman explains, gesturing around with a wave of her hand, "and you don't belong."  
"Well, excuse me, but if there's anywhere I belong, it's most definitely here." The ghost protests.  
"You're not supposed to be here." Devora persists, ignoring her, and Thelma responds by defiantly crossing her arms and staring the black-clad beauty in the eye.  
"Yeah? Why not?" She says stubbornly.  
"Because you have a temporary pass at best." Devora murmurs, unflappable. "You hitch a ride on other people's dreams but never enter here of your own accord, because you're not able. At least not until today. You don't sleep anymore. And therefore you don't dream."  
"I'm dreaming?" The ghost queries, the penny finally beginning to drop.  
Devora gestures round again at the various frozen celebrities;  
"What, you thought this was real? Hello?" She exclaims.  
"I'm dreaming." Thelma repeats, only this time it's a statement tinged with sadness instead of a question.  
"Bingo." Devora declares in triumph, with a beaming smile.  
Thelma opens her eyes. The camera pulls back to reveal that she's lying naked on her front, in the deepest part of a large crater, the sloping sides of which consist of blackened, baked-hard earth.  
"Ah, there you are." Remarks a voice from somewhere behind her.  
Thelma rises onto her elbows and glances back, over her shoulder. Mephistopheles is standing about thirty feet away, hands in the pockets of his black suit trousers. The demon starts walking towards her.  
"I confess you had me quite worried." He remarks conversationally.  
"What just happened?" Thelma murmurs, somewhat subdued, getting to her feet and gazing around at the sloping sides of the crater as she turns to face Mephistopheles.  
"I'm not sure, but whatever it was, it's effects were felt far and wide. The Universe shivered, for lack of a better word. Something has occurred that was never supposed to. Something very wrong. I sensed it myself, and various parties in Heaven and Hell are having a right tizzy, even as we speak." Opines the demon. "My unofficial contacts in both camps asked me to survey the situation on the ground and make an appraisal. So here I am. And here _we_ are."  
He raises a quizzical eyebrow, directed at Thelma. The ghost merely shrugs in response.  
"Don't look at me." She mutters. "I haven't a clue."  
Mephistopheles accepts this with a nod, as though he's already losing interest.  
"Fair enough. But I'm curious... you weren't here a moment ago. You just blinked back into existance." The demon comments.  
"I... I think I was... dreaming." Thelma ventures. "But I can't dream - I mean, I can enter other people's dreams, but I don't dream myself. I can't because I don't sleep. I haven't since I died."  
Mephistopheles ponders for a moment.  
"When you enter the dreams of others, you're not venturing into their minds, so to speak, but briefly visiting another dimension - 'the dreamscape', for lack of a better term. A non-tangable place shaped by the individual's imagination - their wants, desires, and, fears. When humans are unconscious, their souls are able to disengage from their physical bodies and drift there. But it's only temporary, until they awake again. In extreme cases, this results in what are called 'out of body experiences'." He explains.  
"So, all this time, when I thought I was going into peoples' minds, I was actually wandering into another plane of existance?" Thelma queries.  
"Just so." Mephistopheles confirms.  
"But I need another person's dreams to do that, yeah? I hitch a ride, piggyback in on their subconscious. So how come this time I did it all by myself? Totally left this plane of existance and went walkabout in the dreamscape?" The ghost asks.  
"I don't know." The demon muses. "And considering I know almost everything, it's most disconcerning. There are far too many mysteries occurring today. Let's hope it's not the start of a trend. By the way, would you like my jacket?"  
Thelma suddenly remembers that she's standing in front of him stark naked, and instantly, awkwardly, tries to cover her breasts with a forearm and her crotch with her other hand. If her body possessed any blood, her face would have flushed bright red.  
"Have no fear, Miss Bates." The demon declares, taking off his jacket and handing it to her. "Attractive though you undoubtedly are, unlike the Nephilim I was not cast out of Heaven for lusting after mortal women. You're quite safe."  
"You fought on the wrong side during the war?" Thelma asks, accepting the jacket and hurriedly putting it on.  
"The losing side, certainly. As for it being the _wrong_ side, well, that's a matter of opinion." Mephistopheles reflects.  
He glances down at the ground where Thelma was laying.  
"What's that?" He enquires.  
The ghost follows his gaze and sees the pump-action shotgun that she was clutching when she came into contact with Malachi's lifeforce.  
"I must have been lying on it." Thelma remarks, reaching down and picking up the firearm.  
She examines the shotgun. The stock is intact and seems solid, but is burnt black, while other sections of the weapon have been stripped down to the bare metal, slightly pitted and rough to the touch. She looks around at the encircling slope of the crater.  
"Why wasn't this destroyed like everything else?" The ghost muses.  
"Were you holding it when the blast occurred?" Asks Mephistopheles, and Thelma nods.  
"Being at the epicentre may have protected it in some way, like being in the eye of a storm." He suggests. "Does it still work?"  
"To be honest, I don't think I even checked to see if it was loaded." Thelma confesses, then she turns to face the slope, positions the gun at hip level, steadies herself and pulls the trigger.  
The gun produces a low, deep _FLOOM_ sound as a blast of energy erupts from the end of the barrel and the air in front of Thelma visually ripples. A patch of earth the size and depth of a football explodes in the face of the slope, particles of dirt sent flying in all directions.  
"Wow." Thelma utters.  
"It appears to have absorbed some of the energy of the explosion." Mephistopheles theories. "May I?"  
The ghost hands him the firearm to the demon, who turns it over and looks at the loading breach.  
"Definitely not loaded." He comments, then he holds it one-handed at arm's length, pointing at the same patch of earth that Thelma blasted, and pulls the trigger. Click. Nothing happens.  
"Maybe that one blast was all it had." Suggests Thelma.  
"Perhaps." Mephistopheles says, passing the weapon back to her. "But why don't you try again?"  
Assuming the position, Thelma again pulls the trigger. _FLOOM_. Again the shotgun flares, the air ripples, and another piece of earth violently explodes.  
"As I suspected, it only discharges energy if you are firing it." The demon comments. "You're obviously needed to complete some kind of power circuit."  
"Great." Murmurs Thelma, somewhat unconvincingly, weighing the firearm in her hands. "I've always wanted a demonic energy-engorging gun of my very own."  
"Well, now that we've equipped with you with a weapon, we'd best return to Miss Dee." Mephistopheles declares. "She's in dire need of another friendly face right now."  
"What do you mean?" The ghost asks.  
"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of some bad news. Both Leon Taylor and your young hacker associate are dead." The demon informs her. "I'm very sorry."  
We see Thelma's shocked reaction.

Cut to Jo's bedroom in the London headquarters of the New Church. Azazeal is still relaxing on the four poster bed, while Jo – wearing only a short black silk dressing gown – is picking up a remote control from the dressing table.  
"Come back to bed." The angel requests, smiling.  
"There's just something I want to see first." The ex-teacher announces, pressing a button on the remote.  
A large panel on the wall slides back, revealing a huge flat TV screen. Jo clicks another button, and it flares into life, tuned to a 24 hour news channel.  
"-king news now, regarding the New Church of the Messiah." Announces the attractive brunette anchorwoman. "We have received a large amount of extremely detailed information, apparently leaked from within the New Church itself, that apparently provides solid evidence proving the various allegations that have been made against the organisation over the last several years by internet journalist Leon Taylor."  
A picture of Leon – smiling and looking relaxed - appears at the newsreader's shoulder. Jo glances over at Azazeal, who is now sitting upright in bed, staring at the screen with a look of concern.  
"Amongst the information received, there is evidence of substantial undeclared payments to Cabinet Ministers, senior civil servants and high-ranking police officers, both here and in several other countries." The newsreader continues. "There are also detailed records of insider dealing, and of shares held in companies involved in illegal arms sales or unregulated drug trials in the Third World. Among the other allegations apparently supported by the leaked information are those of the New Church's extensive links with organised crime, including money laundering and large scale tax evasion. Potentially most damaging is evidence that many donations from the Church's followers were filtered into private off-shore accounts held in the name of dummy companies, and also of extensive property purchases in tax exile countries – properties that are apparently for the personal use of the New Church's founder, Malachi Solomon. There are also unconfirmed rumours that this information has been leaked to many other news agencies and all the major law enforcement bodies worldwide, including Scotland Yard, Interpol, and the FBI. And we've just heard that all this clearly devastating information has just appeared on the New Church's own website, which would seem to support the theory that the leak was carried out by a senior member of the organisation. To discuss the impact of this breaking news, our international correspondent Stewart Kirby is with me in the studio. Stewart?"  
"This is dynamite, Fiona." A bespectacled man says, and then Jo starts switching channels, moving from one news station to another.  
All of them are reporting the same story – the corruption of the New Church laid bare for the entire world to see.  
Azazeal's expression is a mixture of astonishment and anger.  
"Who did this?" He flares, before deciding on the most likely culprit: "Ella. It's Ella's doing. A desperate last-minute attempt to prevent the End of Days. It could be no-one else."  
"Ella? Oh no, Azazeal. Ella isn't responsible for this." Jo purrs.  
She turns to look at him, and the Nephilm sees that her eyes are glowing red.  
"I am." The ex-teacher declares.  
Before Azazeal can react, Jo's eyes flash and the angel is instantly hurled off the bed and through the air, crashing into one of the heavy oak wardrobes with such force that it is smashes into pieces. Dazed, Azazeal collapses amongst the splintered wreckage as Jo walks around the bed towards him.  
"I'm glad you enjoyed the last few hours, Azazeal." She tells him cheerfully. "Using my body for your pleasure. Because now it's my turn."  
Her eyes flash again, and the Nephilm goes flying helplessly across the room, past Jo – who stands calmly, smiling, as he misses her by only a few inches – and crashes violently into the dressing table, demolishing it in the same manner as the wardrobe.  
"This is so much better than the sex." Jo declares triumphantly. 

Cut to Ella, Roxy, Perie and Lilith in Rachel McBain's estate. Lilith glances over her shoulder;  
"Ah, there they are." She remarks, as Mephistopheles and Thelma emerge into view, over the top of a low ridge that marks the edge of the grounds on this side of the mansion.  
Roxy looks for Ella's reaction. Although still saddened, the Anointed One is visibly relived to see Thelma. The demon and the ghost approach the gathered women, Thelma still wearing Mephistopheles' suit jacket and carrying the charred shotgun in one hand.  
"Lilith." Mephistopheles acknowledges with a polite nod as he and Thelma reach the group.  
"Mephistopheles." The demon goddess replies rather more cordially, extending an expectant hand, which he takes and bows slightly to kiss.  
Thelma takes in the sight of Leon's body, then looks at Ella, who meets her gaze. The ghost goes to say something, but the Anointed One swallows and silently nods. The two of them have known each other long enough for words to be unnecessary.  
"Well, now that everybody's here, let's begin. We have much to discuss." Announces Lilith.  
Ella, Thelma and Roxy – with Leon's corpse lying behind them – stand facing Perie and Lilith. Mephistopheles has positioned himself between the two groups, standing a few feet to the side, as though taking a neutral position.  
"First a gift." Lilith says, producing a computer disc in a plastic case from a pocket in her coat and holding it out to Ella.  
When a stone-faced Ella makes no move to take it, Lilith merely raises a wry eyebrow and lets it drop onto the gravel.  
"It's a duplicate," She continues unabashed, "containing all the illicit inner-workings of the New Church. Full and extensive details of every dirty little secret. Illegal transactions, bribes, off-shore bank accounts – well, you get the general idea. It reveals where all the bodies are buried and where all the money's hidden."  
"Everything required to expose and bring down the entire organisation." Perie summarises.  
"And you're giving this to me why?" Ella asks cautiously.  
"Yeah – why give us the means of destroying the New Church?" Thelma comments.  
"You misunderstand." Lilith counters with a smile. "One of my children did precisely that just under an hour ago." 

Cut to Corvide walking unhurriedly along a corridor within the New Church's headquarters. She reaches a set of double doors, the one of the left bearing a metal plaque that reads 'Media Relations.' Reaching out and pushing open the door of the right, the camera follows the lilin as she walks through into a large room filled with workstations on which computer plasma screens sit. Several members of the New Church's administration staff – a mixture of incubi, succubus, and privately contracted human consultants – are desperately fielding telephone calls and attempting to deal with queries. Despite the earliness of the hour, Corvide isn't surprised to find the room occupied, as there is always a skeleton team on duty overnight, handling any enquiries from media outlets in other time zones. The air is full with the sound of phones ringing constantly and a gabble of raised, overladen voices. The handful of staff members – looking stunned, wide-eyed and stressed - are trying and failing to field persistent questions from practically every major newspaper, TV station, freelance news gathering organisation, and internet news service in the Western hemisphere. Jo isn't answering any of the calls that the desperate shift manager is repeatedly making to her quarters, and so the media staff simply don't know what to say or what official response to make. The department is in meltdown. Corvide calmly glances around and surveys the chaos. She seems almost bored. Seeing her, the shift manager puts his phone down mid-call and rushes over to her side, his collar and tie both loose and his white shirt sticking to his back with nervous sweat. He opens his mouth to speak, but Corvide stops him with a glance – her eyes are in their natural state, a complete, pupil-less black. Opening her mouth slightly to reveal sharp pointed teeth, she hisses slightly, and the manager nervously and wordlessly backs away, his eyes wider than ever. Turning to a panel on the wall behind her, Corvide reaches out with both hands, takes hold of the panel's vertical edges, and rips it from the wall, revealing a bunched mass of cables underneath. The noise this act creates causes practically everyone to look up and see what she's doing. Dismissively dropping the panel to one side, Corvide flexes her right hand, and her black polished fingernails suddenly grow another inch in length. The lilin sweeps her hand across the cables, her nails slicing effortlessly through them, causing a burst of sparks. All the phones instantly stop ringing and the plasma screens simultaneously go blank. The sudden contrast between the cacophony of a moment earlier and the total silence that now exists is almost physical. Her back still to those in the room, Corvide looks over her shoulder at them. All eyes are fixed upon her. No one speaks. Some are still holding their dead phones to their ears, as though frozen like statues.  
"Anyone who's human can leave now. You're fired." Corvide rasps dismissively. "As for the rest of you… your Daddy's coming home. He's going to have need of you." 

Cut back to Rachel McBain's estate.  
"You've had one of your own people destroy the New Church from inside?" Exclaims Thelma. "Why? Why should the forces of Hell sabotage their own plot to destroy the world?"  
"You forget that there are two main factions in Hell. The original Fallen, who rallied around Lucifer after he questioned God's wisdom, which evoked the war and resulted in them being cast out of Heaven. And the Nephilim, who later fell from Grace for succumbing to temptation and committing the sin of Lust." Lilith begins. "Using Malachi to bring about the End of Days and the Uncreation – these schemes are solely the provision of the Nephilim. The Fallen have no involvement, nor do they wish any."  
"You're saying that the Fallen are opposed to the Nephilim's plans?" Ella queries.  
"I'm saying that on the whole, both Hell and Heaven are perfectly happy with the current status quo. Lucifer and the Fallen have no reason to see Earth destroyed or Creation reversed. Either event would gain them nothing. Consider also that the Fallen were exiled from Heaven on a point of principle. As you can imagine, they are none too pleased about having to now share Hell with a few unsavoury, sweaty-palmed angels who stayed loyal to God during the war in Heaven, fought against and helped cast out their brothers, and have themselves since fallen from Grace in ones and twos over several millennium, simply because they can't control their sordid desires and keep their dicks in their pants."  
"Blimey. You're making Hell sound like a bad prison movie, with the Fallen and the Nephilim as rival gangs glaring at each other across the exercise yard." Thelma mutters.  
"An apt description." Lilith observes with a smile. "The Nephilim are a pathetic and depressingly tiresome bunch, full of bitterness and misdirected anger. They're unwilling or incapable of accepting that they alone are responsible for their fate. Instead they blame God, believing that He has unfairly condemned and abandoned them, His loyal servants. Their scheme to use Malachi to destroy all that God created is simply their petulant, childish revenge against Him."  
"But if the Fallen don't want the Nephilim to succeed, why wait until now to act?" Interjects Thelma. "It's all a bit last minute isn't it? Malachi's close to bringing about the End of Days."  
"On the contrary," Lilith counters "the Fallen have had an agent in place, discreetly sabotaging Malachi's accumulation of power, from the very beginning. Placed as close to him as it was possible to be."  
A look of sudden realisation crosses Ella's face;  
"Jo." She murmurs. 

Cut to Jo's quarters in the new Church's headquarters. Apart from the four poster bed and the full length mirror, every other item of heavy blackened oak furniture in the room is in shattered ruins. Azazeal – his naked body severely bruised and battered, bleeding from numerous large gashes and deep cuts – lays semi-conscious in the middle of the debris that used to be a large chest of drawers. Standing with her back to him, facing the mirror and still only wearing the short black silk dressing gown, Jo opens her right hand. A lipstick immediately flies out from within the shattered pile of darkened wood that was the dressing table, sending fragments spinning. It shoots across the room like a bullet and stops dead in Jo's palm. Unscrewing the top, she starts applying it to her lips.  
"Why... are you… do…ing…this?" Azaeal managed to croak, his voice little more than a weakened, coarse whisper.  
"You know what happens when a human soul enters Hell, don't you Azazeal." Jo replies, still with her back to him. "Of course, as an angel you have no soul, so in the past you've walked between this world and either Heaven or Hell as though just stepping through a door. But humans leave their physical bodies behind, and their souls take on physical form on the other side. That's what enables the damned to feel pain and agony as they're tortured. And that's what happened to my soul, when you sent me to Hell and my comatose body remained here. But there was one big difference between me and all the other damned souls. I was innocent."  
Finished with the lipstick, Jo simply drops it on the floor and casually kicks it so it rolls away. Turning and walking over to the huddled Nephilim, she stands over him, arms by her sides and her eyes faintly glowing red. Azazeal's body slowly levitates out of the shattered drawers, as though practically weightless and being lifted on invisible strings. Suspended almost two feet in the air, he is positioned and turned until he is facing Jo.  
"So, do you know what happens when an innocent soul arrives in Hell, Azazeal?" Jo asks mockingly. "Of course you don't. It had never happened before, and you weren't there to see it, being too busy here raising Malachi and trying to drive Ella insane. Hell reacted as though it was an organic entity and I was poison. It was as if the entire realm went into toxic shock. Whole sections started to decay and die. A couple of the lower levels were close to collapse. The Fallen could see that I was the problem. My innocence was alien to the environment. They knew that the only way to correct matters was to corrupt me – to make me willingly give up my soul and become damned like everybody else. But I knew that surrendering my soul would condemn me there forever. So I refused. And the Fallen proceeded to do what they do best… they tortured me, with the intention of doing so until I gave in and relinquished my innocence."  
Jo pauses, closing her eyes and tilting her head back with a deep sigh, her hands slowly closing and then opening again at her sides, almost as though enjoying the memory. When she opens her eyes, they are glowing bright red. She steps to one side and Azazeal is suddenly propelled forward through the air, coming to an equally sudden halt right in front of one of the exquisitely carved posts of the four poster bed, his face approximately ten inches from the blackened oak.  
"Do you like the designs?" Jo asks, walking back over to the mirror. "I had them commissioned especially. Cast your eye over them. Tell me what you see."  
Azazeal tries to look over his shoulder at her, to speak, but instead finds his head being turned against his will to look at the carvings on the post, all depicting naked women being defiled by demons and monsters. The Nephilim feels his eyelids being pulled so wide open that it causes him pain. Having no choice but to look at the designs, he glances over several of them… then audibly gasps.  
"It's you." Azazeal exclaims, his voice stronger than earlier, but still considerably weaker than normal. "These women… they're all you."  
"The Fallen tortured me, raped me, molested me, violated me, abused me, repeatedly and constantly. I was passed from one demon to the next, each of them trying and failing to break me, exhausting every vile and sadistic atrocity they could think of using on me." Jo declares. "Still I held out. Still I wouldn't give in. I knew that my soul was the only bargaining chip I had, the only thing that could save me from suffering precisely the same kind of torture they were inflicting on me, forever. And you know that time works differently in Hell, Azazeal. One second here is over a thousand millennium there. I endured the worst that Hell had to offer for an eternity. The Fallen crushed my limbs. Twisted and pulled my fingers off. Yanked out my teeth, one at a time. Ground my flesh to liquid and my bones to dust. Sliced off my tongue and eyelids. Gouged out my eyes. Cut off my breasts. Tore me open and ripped out my organs. Force-fed me my own intestines until I choked. Again and again and again and again, each time my body repairing and reknitting itself, so the torture could begin anew."  
The ex-teacher turns from the mirror, walks over to the bed and sits down on it, gazing up at the still-suspended Azazeal.  
"All this time the damage to Hell continued." Jo says, almost breezily. "The level where they'd hidden me away was visually rotting away around us. And they had to keep me hidden, Azazeal. The Fallen didn't want the Nephilim learning what was going on and interfering, especially as it was your arrogant, short-sighted blundering that had created the crisis in the first place. Ironic really, considering that your kind would have enjoyed having their way with me."  
Jo pointedly looks Azazeal directly in the eye, crosses her legs and adjusts the front of her gown to display more cleavage as she makes this observation.  
"Luckily the sections of Hell affected by my presence were well away from the areas inhabited by your brethren. Because the Fallen had plans for me, even then." The ex-teacher continues. "Like you, they could see that if I was returned to Earth I would be ideally placed to oversee Malachi. But their intentions towards your son were very different to your grand scheme. However, their efforts to break me – to make me their willing servant – were failing, and the damage I was causing to Hell was increasing at such a rate that it could not be kept from the Nephilim much longer. The Fallen were almost becoming desperate."  
The ex-teacher pauses, her lips forming into a confident smile;  
"I had gained the upper hand." She declares. "I told them I was willing to make a deal, but only with Lucifer himself. Him alone, no-one else."  
Her smile grows wider.  
"Can you imagine it?" Jo says with almost a laugh. "Me, a simple pathetic mortal, condemned to the worst depths of Hell, making demands of the Devil?"  
The ex-teacher pauses, closing her eyes she leans back, placing both hands on the bed behind her and sighing blissfully at the memory of what she's describing;  
"And he came." Jo murmurs, a purr of contentment mixed with a slight tremble in her voice. "It was the first time I'd seen him. Other members of the Fallen had dealt with me until that moment. He was beautiful. He dismissed everyone, and it was just the two of us, alone." 

Cut back to Rachel's estate.  
"Once it became clear that Malachi was too undisciplined to bring about the End of Days, with both his father and Mephistopheles having failed to control him, the Fallen seized their chance and sent Jo to mentor him – a move which ironically was supported by Azazeal himself." Lilith explains. "The Fallen even let him take the credit for it. The Nephilim believed that Jo's remit was to rein in Malachi's excesses and keep the End of Days on schedule, but her real mission was to make the approach of the End of Days proceed at a pace quick enough to allay any suspicions the Nephilim may have, but simultaneously ensure that any serious or irreversible process was delayed. Part of this secret mission was to talk Malachi out of taking any drastic and divisive action where both you" - Lilith looks directly at Ella - "and your mortal lover were concerned. The Fallen needed you alive."  
"Why?" Ella asks cautiously.  
"Plausible denial." Lilith bats back, somewhat smugly. "If the Nephilim ever got suspicious about why the End of Days was slowly being pushed back further and further, the Fallen could just blame it not only on Malachi's wilfulness – despite Jo's supposedly best efforts to rein him in – but on your continuous meddling."  
The First Woman flashes a beaming smile;  
"You've effectively been working for the Fallen since your reappearance. Unwittingly supplying interference." She tells the Anointed One.  
If Lilith was expecting a reaction from Ella – or even an indication that the immortal is fuming internally after learning that she has been used – she doesn't get it. However, Thelma glances at her friend and can tell that Ella is disquieted by this revelation, processing it over and over.  
"Why all this subterfuge?" The ghost asks, partly because she wants to know, but also to prevent Ella dwelling on what she's just been told. "If the Fallen were opposed to the Nephilim's plans, why not just give them a collective clip round the ear and tell them to –"  
"No." Lilith says, cutting Thelma off. "Lucifier and the Fallen have seen what a civil war did to Heaven. They weren't doing to let that happen to Hell." 

Cut to Jo's bedroom. Azazeal is still suspended vertically in the air, in front of the post, while Jo is lying on the bed, eyes closed and with a contented smile on her face.  
"I told Lucifer that my soul could be his, and I would assist him with his plan to prevent the End of Days... but on one condition. I told him that I wanted to become his woman." The ex-teacher breathes, visibly excited at the memory. "He agreed."  
Upon hearing this, Azazeal snorts with laughter;  
"You're a fool, Jo." He sneers mockingly, sounding confident and stronger. "Lucifer has taken countless lovers and consorts from amongst the damned souls that enter Hell. And when he tires of them, he throws them back into the flames. You're diluded if you think you're anything special."  
Jo's smile grows wider;  
"He has indeed taken numerous lovers, Azazeal." She confirms, then she opens her eyes and fixes the Nephilim with her gaze. "But only one wife."  
It takes a couple of seconds for the realisation to show on the Nephilim's features. His eyes widen and stare, his jaw sags and the colour adruptly drains out of his face.  
"That's right." Jo purrs triumphantly, revelling in her lover's reaction. "That was the deal I made. My soul in exchange for marriage to the Devil, and all that comes with it. Everything that is his is also mine."  
"Lucifer would never agree to such a deal!" Blusters Azazeal.  
"He didn't have much choice, considering that Hell was dying around him. Better to share ownership of a realm, than have no realm at all." Counters Jo calmly. "And I promised to be a dutiful bride and loyal wife, aiding him in any way I could and never betraying his trust. So the deal was struck. I gave myself to the Devil, pledged my body and soul to him, and he appointed me his Queen, to rule by his side. An equal partnership. And so Hell - my new domain, my new home - was saved. With my innocence gone, the infection ceased immediately. The weakened sections quickly recovered and healed. It was as though nothing had happened - and as far as you and your fellow Nephilim were aware, nothing had."  
She stretches and sighs contentedly;  
"I out-rank you now, Azazeal." The brunette declares casually. "In fact, I have done for the last six years. How does it feel, being in the presense of your betters?"  
Azazeal desperately glances about, trying to think of something - anything - to deny or disprove what Jo is telling him. He notices her hands.  
"You're bluffing." He hisses, desperation clearly audible in his voice. "Even the Prince of Lies is bound by the sacred, ancient conventions of marriage, and you're not wearing a wedding ring. There can be no marriage without a ring."  
"Oh, but I am, Azazeal." The ex-teacher announces smugly. "Just not on my finger. You know where it is. You were wrapping your tongue around it earlier."  
The Nephilim gazes at her in non-comprehension for a moment, then his eyes shift to the parting of her legs.  
"That's the one." Jo smiles. "And you thought it was just for my pleasure."  
She gets up and stands alongside Azazeal as he remains suspended. Her eyes glow faintly, and the Nephilim is lowered slightly, until the soles of his feet are hovering only a couple of inches above the floor.  
"And before you ask, yes, the marriage has been consummated." Jo whispers into the Nephilim's ear. "Remember when I told you that sleeping with you is like screwing God? I lied. Compared to my husband, you and your son are like a couple of clumsy virgins who have never even imagined a woman naked, let alone knowing what to do with one."  
The ex-teacher glances over to what was her dressing table. A gesture of her wrist, and a small flat object flies out from amongst of the debris and lands in her hand. She brings it into Azazeal's eyeline: it's a photo of Malachi, smiling and looking relaxed, set in an elaborate frame of dark-green jade.  
"Can you believe that he made the same catastrophic mistake you did?" Jo declares in mock-disbelief, tracing the tip of her fore-finger down the curve of her surrogate son's face in the picture. "He sent an innocent soul to Hell. Thelma's girlfriend, Maya I think her name was. He really is your son, isn't he. Needless to say, the Fallen were prepared this time. A couple of them intercepted her as she fell and redirected her to Purgatory. Once bitten and all that."  
Jo shrugs and the photo suddenly bursts into small but intense flames. Within a second it's been reduced to ash, frame and all, and holding her hand palm upwards, the brunette blows the ash into the Nephilim's face, making him blink and splutter.  
"What happens now?" Azazeal asks, spitting out the last of the ash, his voice terse. "What are you going to do? Malachi -"  
"Our son? My beautiful boy?" Jo interupts, then leans in close and murmurs softly, like a lover: "I'm going to serve him on a stick to Ella Dee."  
Her eyes flash bright red and the Nephilim is instantly thrown backwards, crashing through the full length mirror and it's wooden backing and striking the wall beyond it. Instead of letting him fall to the ground, Jo sends him flying forward across the room, his head smashing through the post of the bed with a loud and brutal-sounding crack. Still keeping Azazeal aloft, the ex-teacher propels him into each of the three other posts in turn, breaking and shattering them while leaving his body more battered and broken than before. Allowing the Nephilim to finally collapse onto the bed in a bloodied mess, Jo glances up at the roof of the four-poster, which she has kept suspended in place after the destruction of the posts. She smiles viciously;  
"They say that Hell has no fury like a woman scorned." She announces loudly, for the barely-conscious Azazeal's benefit. "Well it does now."  
Jo's eyes blaze, and the roof of the bed plunges down, crashing onto Azazeal and causing the base of the four-poster to collapse with a heavy splintering sound. As the ex-teacher surveys the damage in satisfaction, Corvide appears in the doorway. The lilin shows no surprise at all the destruction.  
"It went well, mistress?" The raven-haired girl asks.  
"Indeed my pet. Most satisfactory." Jo says warmly, walking around the wreckage of her bed, and tying the waist cord of her silk gown. "What news of my son?"  
"There has been an incident of some sort." Corvide reports. "Details are hazy, but the helicopter they left in has been damaged. His wife contacted our fleet co-ordinator from a private airfield, demanding another aircraft be sent to pick them up. It's been dispatched. Estimated arrival time sixty minutes. The succubus and incubi await his return."  
"Sixty minutes." Jo ponders, then glances back at the shattered contacts of her room. "Your quarters, I think."  
"Then... it's time, mistress?" Murmurs the lilin in quiet but hopeful anticipation.  
Smiling, the ex-teacher reaches out and cups the cheek of her servant's face in the palm of her hand.  
"Yes, my sweet." Jo declares. "It's time." 

Cut to Rachel McBain's estate, and a stunned-looking Thelma.  
"You're kidding." The ghost is murmuring in disbelief. "My old English teacher is now co-ruler of Hell?"  
"In terms of seniority in the Universe, she now ranks behind only God and Lucifer." Confirms Lilith. "You must admit, it's one hell of a promotion. No pun intended."  
"So Jo marries the Devil, sparing Hell, losing her soul but avoiding the flames. Then she awakens from her coma and returns to Medenham, apparently to mentor and assist Malachi, but actually to sabotage his progress." Summarises Ella. "But something doesn't make sense with that scenario. Surely delaying the End of Days can't be maintained indefinitely? Eventually the Nephilim will realise that the Fallen have no intention of letting the apocalypse happen."  
"Oh, the Fallen had no intention of delaying it indefinitely," replies Lilith coolly, "just long enough to negotiate an agreement with their new allies."  
Ella gazes wordlessly at the First Woman for several seconds, as another in a line of coins suddenly drops, and the Anointed One realises who Lilith is talking about;  
"The Elder Gods." The auburn-haired immortal murmurs.  
"The Fallen have formed a partnership with the Old Ones." Lilith confirms with a smile. "And against their combined forces, the Nephilim are severely outnumbered, outgunned... and can do nothing. A war in Hell will be averted."  
"That's why you're involved." Ella - slowly nodding at her own deduction - declares to Lilith. "You were exiled from Paradise, while the Fallen were cast from Heaven. The Lillin are forced to dwell in the shadows, the ocean depths, the remotest regions of the Earth or deep underground, while the Elder Gods are unable to enter this realm. You and your Lillin could claim kinship with both groups. You acted as facilitators and go-betweens in the negotiations."  
"So the Fallen avoid a war in Hell, but what do the Old Ones get out of the deal?" Asks Thelma. "What did Lucifer have to offer them to get them on board?"  
Ella's already realised;  
"Earth." She says plaintly. "The Elder Gods get the world and everything on it. That's why Jo was trying to locate the original Necronomicon – to enable the Old Ones to pass through into this dimension."  
"Correct." Lilith declares with a nod. "The Nephilim believed that the ritual Jo had Malachi repeatedly perform was to locate the Grand Grimlore – and so it was, for only the Messiah of the Fallen Angels can find the Grimlore, and yes, the Fallen wanted it found and put in a place of safety, in order to safeguard all of Creation. However, through amendments to the ritual, Jo was also using Malachi to find the original Necronomicon."  
"Wait a minute," Thelma interjects, "if the Fallen don't want the Nephilim to destroy the world, then why have they agreed to let the Elder Gods demolish it instead?"  
"The Old Ones don't want to destroy this planet." Lilith explains patiently, as though talking to a child. "They merely want to rule it. They want to have a place to finally call 'home.' Besides, will it really be so different? For the last several thousand years, Mankind has been ruled and governed by an endless succession of monsters. The only real change will be that the monsters won't be human."  
"So an agreement's been reached, and the Fallen can safely drop the subterfuge, now that the Elder Gods are on side and the Grimlore's been secured." Ella concludes. "So why do you need me to kill Malachi?"  
"Consider it a reward, for all your unwitting good service." Lilith replies. "But the truth is that even with the Fallen and the Old Ones lined up against them, some of the Nephilim might be tempted to do something foolish, once they realise how badly they've been deceived. But if Malachi dies by your hand, then officially the Fallen can deny all knowledge. Yes, the Nephilim won't believe for a second that the Fallen didn't set him up for the slaughter. But your prints on the murder weapon - so to speak - might be enough to make them pause, allowing the potential flashpoint to pass without incident, after which they'll realise they've missed their moment and things will calm down. Besides, you've waited four and a half centuries to kill him - it would be a shame to deny you."  
"But ultimately this plan of yours won't work, because you're forgetting one very important thing." Ella declares firmly. "Even if exposing the New Church's corruption causes Malachi's human followers around the world to turn against him, he's still got his succubus and incubi. And as long as he's got them he's still invulnerable."  
"Let Jo worry about that." The First Woman bats back with a smile. "It's all in her very capable hands. Succient to say that should you arrive at the New Church's London headquarters in, oh, about five hours time, you'll find Malachi perfectly killable. Though he may have been allowed to keep a few of his key people. It's only sporting, plus we don't want to make it too much of a cakewalk for you. Figured you'd appreciate at least something resembling a challenge."  
Not entirely sure how to respond, the Anointed One settles for a slight shrug.  
"Thanks. I suppose." She mutters sullenly.  
Slightly bewildered by the speed of events, Thelma looks at Ella;  
"So... are we doing to do this? Go off and kill Malachi, after The Forces Of Evil have served him on a platter to us?" The ghost asks, perplexed.  
When the Anointed One answers, her words are directly at Lilith instead of Thelma;  
"Do I have a choice?" Ella asks flatly.  
"There's always a choice." Lilith states with a winning smile. "That's how Hell operates. Free will."  
"If you'll permit me, I'll take care of Mr. Taylor." Mephistopheles offers, stepping forward. "There is a lake here in the grounds. A fitting place for a warrior's funeral. He deserves no less."  
Ella nods, perhaps a little too quickly, not wanting to show any weakness in front of Lilith.  
"Thank you." She murmurs to the demon.  
"There's something I have to do." Roxy says, having kept mostly silent since Lilith's arrival. "I've spent the last five years trying to find some goodness within Malachi. I know now that I was never going to succeed, but I still need to say goodbye to him. He's been a big part of my life - well, you know what I mean."  
Thelma smiles in understanding at her fellow ghost's unwittingly inappropriate choice of words.  
"It's just something I have to do. For me, not for him." Roxy concludes.  
"I understand. Do what you have to do, Roxy." Ella says with a slight sympathetic nod.  
"Allow me." Lilith announces, and she makes a gesture with her hand, causing a blindingly white portal, identical to the one she appeared through, to blink into existance a few feet in front of Roxy, complete with a sharp but brief shrieking sound.  
"This will take you to the London headquarters of the New Church." The First Woman explains. "Malachi is heading back there as we speak."  
"What's the deal with these doorways, anyway?" Asks Thelma, waving a pointing hand at the portal.  
"I'm the oldest inhabitant of this planet." Lilith says by way of explanation.  
"So?" Queries Thelma.  
"So that means I know where all the shortcuts are." Lilith says with a smile.  
Roxy turns to look at Ella and Thelma, and suddenly she looks like the old Roxy, the confident and assured Roxy who found purpose and self-awareness at Medenham in the weeks before her death.  
"We'll talk later, Thelma. Alright?" She asks.  
"We will." Confirms Thelma with a smile and a nod, both of which Roxy returns before turning and walking unafraid and without hesitation through the portal, which closes vertially with a shimmering hiss a few moments after the ghost has disappeared. 

Cut to Corvide's quarters in the New Church's London skyscraper. Compared to Malachi's penthouse apartment and Jo's rooms, it's quite small and spartan, but the lilin finds it more than adequate, as her needs are few. The camera slowly pans round: the walls are painted black, and underfoot are bare varnished floorboards. Several outfits hang inside zipped-up covers on a simple metal frame. A half-dozen pairs of identical, black high-heeled shoes are lined up underneath. A door stands open in the corner, and a cramped bathroom - with a sink, shower and toilet all jostling for space - can be seen within. In the opposite corner a tall, sizeable fridge is located, a few smears of dried blood marking it's shiny steel surface. The only other item of furnture is a double bed, but before the camera can move across it, a brillant white portal opens in the middle of the room with the now-familar unearthy shriek, and Roxy steps through - and promptly stops dead, her eyes widening in surprise as the portal closes behind her. In front of the newly-arrived ghost, lying on the double bed are Jo and Corvide, their naked bodies pressed close together. Jo's right hand is between the lilin's legs, and Corvide is arching her back and pushing her body against her mistress in order to increase the sensation of the other woman's probing.  
"Ah, Roxanne." Jo glances over and declares without embarrassment. "We've been expecting you, though admittedly not quite so soon. But this could be quite fortuitous. Corvide enjoys having an audience."  
As if in response, the lilin unleashes an long, inhuman cry that sounds like a surreal mixture of a raven's rasp and a wolf's howl. Her pale flawless skin is covered in tiny beads of sweat, her left hand is raking wildly at the edge of the bed, her long black fingernails having already slashed the sheets there to threads and now carving furrows in the mattress. Corvide's right hand is wrapped firmly around Jo's right wrist, encouraging her mistress's skilled exploration. The lilin's unblinking, completely black and pupil-less eyes are staring at the ceiling, and as Roxy watches, the changling violently shudders along the entire length of her body and she cries out again. There's no indication that Corvide is even aware of the ghost's arrival or presence. Roxy watches transfixed, unable to look away.  
"She loves me." Explains Jo gently, for Roxy's benefit, as with her left hand she brushes stray strands of jet black hair away from the lilin's contorted face. "I can't give her my heart in return - it belongs to my son, and after he's dead, to my husband. She accepts that."  
The ex-teacher adjusts the angle of her right hand slightly, and the reaction from Corvide is instantaneous - she arches her back as though in spasm, actually screams, and attacks the mattress so frenziedly that a spring is snapped loose with a sharp metallic twang, and promptly tumbles onto the floor amongst a flowering mass of dislodged stuffing.  
"But what I can do is make her mine." Jo continues softly. "She's discussed it with her mother. Lilith is in full agreement - she sees it as a way of cementing the partnership between our camps. But I can't claim her soul. As a lilin she doesn't have one. So instead I must take her body."  
The ex-teacher gazes over Corvide's small but perfectly-formed breasts, slim waist and short but shapely legs, all contained in smooth cream-white skin, as another tremor moves through the lilin's body.  
"I must know every inch of her." Jo says, so quiet that it's almost a whisper: "Every cell, every molecule, every delicious atom that makes up the wonder that is her."  
"MISTRESS!" Corivide suddenly yells out, her body jerking and convulsing, milky-black tears beginning to flow from her unblinking eyes and down her cheeks.  
Jo wraps her left arm around the lilin's shoulders, steadying Corvide until her frenzied movement slows and is reduced to a slight trembling, and her cries replaced by a cat-like mewing sound. The ex-teacher gently kisses the changling's face and licks up the tears, then softly shushes her while stroking her dampened hair. Finally, she looks up at Roxy;  
"We're just getting started." Jo informs the ghost. "Feel free to stay. You might learn something." 

Cut to the McBain estate. Ella and Thelma watch as Mephistopheles straightens up with Leon in his arms, lifting the body off the ground. Thelma is now wearing Ella's leather trenchcoat, having returned Mephistopheles' jacket. With a silent nod of farewell to the Anointed One and the ghost, the demon turns with his burden, walks off the gravel and onto the beginning of the grounds. With her unflappable smile still in place, Perie winks at Thelma and Ella and then unhurriedly follows Mephistopheles, the two of them making an unlikely but strangely appropriate funeral procession.  
"And where can I send you?" Lilith asks Ella and Thelma expectantly. "I take it you'll want to prepare for your confrontation with Malachi?"  
"We need to go home." Ella confirms flatly with a slight nod of acceptance. "I'll give you the address."  
The Anointed One spots Thelma giving her a warning glance;  
"It's okay, Thelma." She says to the ghost. "It doesn't matter anymore. After today, finding a new base of operations is going to be the least of our problems."  
Thelma takes this on board with a sad, contemplative nod. Stepping forward, Lilith bends down and picks up the flat plastic case containing the computer disc that was earlier dropped onto the gravel. She offers it again to Ella.  
"What good is it to me?" Ella queries. "The information's already out there. The whole world now knows what the New Church were up to."  
"Very true." Agreed Lilith. "But Malachi was doing business with some extremely powerful people. Industrialists, CEOs of multinationals, oil barons, war-profiteers... the kingmakers of this world. Their names may be all over the duplicated information that Corvide leaked to the press and the various law enforcement agencies, but the media won't mention them, and none of them will ever see the inside of a courtroom, let alone a prison cell. Even as we speak they'll be taking steps to get all mention of themselves wiped from the copy of this data which was posted on the New Church's website. These people are beyond any human justice... but they're not beyond yours..."  
Ella weighs up the First Woman's words for several seconds. Then she reaches out for the disc.  
"Happy hunting." Says Lilith with a satisfied smile, before releasing it to her. 

Cut to the street containing the house in which Ella's basement flat is located. Dawn was a few hours ago, but it's still early, and the street is empty. With the customary high-pitched shriek, a dazzling-white portal opens in the middle of the road. It's larger than the ones we've seen previously - rectangular, ten feet wide and six feet tall. Leon's battered Vauxhall Corsa speeds out of the opening, with Ella at the wheel. She instantly slows the vehicle and pulls over to park it in a space by the kerb. As the Anointed One steps out of the Corsa, another car emerges from the portal - the white E-type Jaguar that Kessel had to abandon at the gates of Rachel McBain's estate. Thelma's driving it now, a wide grin upon her face. As the portal closes horizonally, as though descending down into the road, the ghost puts the classic speedster into a flashy, screeching handbrake turn, and parks it nose-to-nose with the Corsa. Ella manages a slight smile, appreciating that her friend is trying to take her mind off her loss.  
"I still don't see why you insisted on bringing that with us." The immortal remarks, indicating the E-type as Thelma exits the sports car, holding the charred shotgun loosely in her left hand, barrel pointing at the pavement.  
"Well, first it's a classic. I mean, _come on!_ - the thing's a timeless vehicular work of art." Thelma enthuses, gesturing with her right arm like a model at a motor show to emphasise her point. "And second... well, like Roxy there's something I have to do. Someone I need to say goodbye to."  
"Peggy?" Murmurs Ella, and the ghost nods;  
"I thought I'd come here first to get changed. Thanks for lending me the coat, but -"  
"It itches." Says the Anointed One, finishing her friend's sentence.  
"Then I'll take the Jag and go and see Peggy. Say my farewells, and afterwards go straight to the New Church's headquarters, meeting you there in time for Malachi's going-away party." Thelma concludes.  
"Sounds like a plan." Agrees Ella. 

Cut to Corvide's quarters in the New Church's London headquarters. A still-awed Roxy has not moved from her position at the foot of the bed, and is staring intently at the lilin's agonised features as a screaming Corvide jerks and bucks on all fours while facing the ghost. Closing her eyes is unnatural and alien behaviour to the lilin, but she has currently shut them so tightly that her eyelids are practically clenched, cutting off her sight in order to reduce the immense sensory overload she's experiencing. The changling's hands are clutching the edge of the mattress, her long black fingernails having gouged gaping holes, out of which stuffing is billowing. Corvide screams peter away into a series of painful whimpers that sound similar to the noise a dog makes when being kicked, and then eventually silence - but her face remains contorted, as though she doesn't any breath left with which to cry out. She collapses face down, half-hanging off the bed, her body covered in a thin film of shiny sweat, her hair damp and lank. Roxy gazes up at Jo as the ex-teacher straightens into a kneeling position, situated between Corvide's spread-wide legs. Reaching forward, Jo places her hands on the lilin's shoulders, and slowly runs them down the length of the girl's smooth back, eventually cupping and squeezing her taut buttocks. The ex-teacher looks up and stares Roxy in the eye;  
"In order to make her mine, she must give herself to me, totally and freely." Jo explains. "But first I must break her... for no matter now willingly she thinks she's submitting herself to me, there are still some subconscious barriers that everybody has, buried so deeply that we're not even aware they exist. They must be torn down. Destroyed utterly."  
The ex-teacher raises her right hand and gives her assistant's backside a swift, loud smack. The raven-haired girl's body jolts slightly, and she issues a gasp of surprise.  
"I've had my fill of pain, Roxy." Jo continues, still meeting the ghost's gaze. "And I've found that pleasure can be just as unbearable, when taken beyond the subject's limits."  
The ex-teacher leans forward and runs her tongue the length of Corvide's spine, from the base until it meets her neck, saviouring the taste of the lilin's sweat.  
"We're close." Jo breathes softly in anticipation. 

Cut to Thelma and Ella inside the latter's flat. They gaze around quietly, subdued, taking in their surroundings and the flat's contents as though with new eyes. The last time they stood in this room, Leon and Midge were here also. It's Thelma who breaks the silence;  
"It's still..." The ghost pauses, searching for the right word. "- _full_ of them." She eventually decides. "And yet -"  
"Empty." Ella declares, finishing her friend's sentence.  
Thelma takes off the leather trenchcoat and hands it to Ella, unashamed of her nakedness in front of the immortal. She's never stood unclothed in full view of the Anointed One before, but the two of them have known each other too long, and experienced too much together, to be embarrassed by such trivial matters anymore. Especially after the events of the last few hours. Ella takes the coat, the two friends locking eyes as she does so, sharing an understanding that renders words redundant. Placing the coat on the sofa, the Anointed One moves over to the desk containing all the computers and equipment, and sits on the chair in front of it. After sitting in silence for several seconds, she places the computer disc that Lilith gave her on the desk, then leans forward and starts tapping on the keyboard.  
"Never place all your eggs in one basket." She murmurs, her voice distant. "I'm going to send the contents of the disc to various contacts. Other warriors in the fight."  
She glances over at the ghost;  
"This will take a while." She says.  
"I'm going to get changed." Reports Thelma, gazing at her friend. "There's an outfit I've been dying to try out, in a manner of speaking. Never had the right occasion to wear it, until now."  
As Ella continues with her task, Thelma opens one of the kitchen cupboards and pulls out a partly-filled bin liner. Placing it on the floor, she starts to rummage through the contents, throwing out items of clothing and leaving them on the floor. Locating a tiny make-up kit, she places it on the kitchen counter.  
The camera cuts back to Ella, as she inserts and begins downloading the contents of the disc, while searching out the e-mail addresses for a select group of trusted individuals. First there was Toby, who Ella visualised as sitting illuminated by the glare of his computer monitor in a darkened room barely lit by candles. She knew that Toby was smart enough to share the information with his colleagues without mentioning that she was the source, for while she and Toby had remained on good terms, she understandably hadn't had contact with Strange and Jude since killing the latter's son.  
Next would be Father Michael in Middleford, a small town that formed part of the suburbian overspill on the outskirts of London. Middleford was something of a hot spot, and while tending to his flock and dealing with parish affairs, over the years Father Michael had also kept Ella fully appraised about the abundant amount of witchcraft being practised in the area.  
Then there was young Robin Branaugh in the Welsh town of Stokely. Ella couldn't surpress a slight smile at the thought of the undisguised crush that Robin had for her, mixed with his puppy-like gratitude for her restoring his memories. When writing the e-mail accompanying the information from the disc, she would apologise for recently not having enough time to complete their current on-line game of chess, and also ask that he request an audience with Princess Ingrid on her behalf. Although she and Ingrid were natural enemies, Ella had long ago learnt the benefits of maintaining an often-uneasy peace with the vampire nations, and Robin was the only human whom Ingrid was known to tolerate. Therefore, he was Ella's sole access to the Princess, who had become the by-default ruler of the nosferatu following the death of her brother and no other potential leader coming forward. And the Anointed One knew that Ingrid had nothing to gain if the world was ruled by the Elder Gods. You took your allies where-ever you found them.  
There were others: Poppy, making a success of her studies at Bristol and still finding new ways to conceal the fact she was a walking corpse. Larry Nightingale and Sally Sparrow, bookshop proprietors and occasional monster-hunters. Successful horror author Stella MacDonald. Judy Kramer, far away across the Atlantic, who now accepted that if God had wanted her best friend/surrogate sister killed, He would have sent Ella to do it. Michael Lewis, receiving messages from dead people each night on his answerphone, even when he unplugged it. Former journalist Jude Redfield, chosen and appointed as The Storyteller by the city of London itself. Tom Tyrell and Zoe Brogan, living in a location so secret that it was a mystery even to them. Claire, never venturing from her room in a psychiatric institute and spending each day constantly performing rituals to ward off the bad things. All warriors in the fight. 

Cut to a boating lake on the McBain estate. A jetty juts out into the still, mirror-glass water. Mephistopheles has laid out Leon's body in one of the three rowing boats that are tied to the further-most section of the jetty, and placed the young man's arms so they're crossed over his chest. Standing alongside the demon is Perie, who's holding a can of petrol that she has secured from somewhere. Unscrewing the top, she liberally and casually pours the contents over Leon's corpse and the bottom of the boat, finally dropping the now-empty container into the small wooden vessel where it rests next to Leon's ankle. Lilith walks along the jetty to join Perie and Mephistopheles as the latter crouches down, unties the rope securing the boat to the structure and firmly pushes the craft out into the water. As the demon and the First Woman watch the boat drift away, Perie pulls one of her machine-pistols from it's holster, removes the clip, selects a new clip from her web harness and assuredly shoves it into place. Mephistopheles glances sideways at her, a quizzical eyebrow raised.  
"Tracer rounds." Explains the faerie, holding the gun aloft. "I am correct in assuming that neither of you have a flaming arrow on your person?"  
The demon nods in acceptance, and Lilith merely smiles slightly in silent amusement. Perie levels the machine-pistol at the boat and fires it one-handed, moving her arm slightly from left to right and unleashing a wave of bullets that flare and light their path as they riddle the entire length of the makeshift funeral barge. The petrol instantly ignites and the boat erupts into violent flame.  
"Restless are the brave, for they never die in bed." Muses Mephistopheles as he watches the craft burn.  
"I must disagree. Many have died in my bed." Comments Perie.  
The faint sound of sirens can be heard in the distance.  
"It appears somebody has finally noticed all the smoke coming from the mansion." Lilith remarks to the others.  
The First Woman takes a final long glance at the burning vessel;  
"Our work here is done. Time to leave, I think." She declares.  
A gesture from her hand causes a portal to open at the end of the jetty, hovering in mid-air above the water. Perie steps off the jetty and vanishes through the opening, followed by Mephistpheles and finally Lilith. A second later the portal closes, leaving just the boat blazing away in the middle of the lake. 

Cut to Ella's flat. With a click of the mouse, the Anointed One sends the last of the e-mails. Turning in the swivel chair to say something to Thelma, she stops at the sight in front of her: Thelma is clad in black leather from head to toe. The ghost is wearing a basque, skintight trousers, metal-studded gloves and wristbands, with a spiked dog collar around her neck. A pair of shiny polished Doc Martens complete the outfit, together with a gunbelt which has Thelma's twin revolvers fitting snugly into it's holsters, which are strapped to her upper legs. And for the first time that Ella can remember, the ghost is wearing make-up: dark grey eye-shadow and black lip-gloss.  
"Where did you get that?" The Anointed One eventually deadpans, having found her voice and running her eyes over the ghost.  
"Various bits and bobs I've collected from the morgue over the years." Replies Thelma with a shrug. "I thought they'd look good together, but I've been saving it for a special occasion. Like I said earlier, today would definitely seem to qualify."  
The ghost takes a step back, making her leather trousers creek slightly.  
"How do I look?" She asks, stretching out her arms in a pose.  
Ella considers for a moment before offering her honest appraisal;  
"Like Death with tits." She says.  
"Must be like looking in a mirror then, considering what the Nephilim say about you." Thelma declares with a wry smile, which Ella manages to return.  
The ghost's eyes narrow slightly;  
"Are you sure you're alright?" Thelma queries, her brow furrowing with tell-tale concern, but Ella nods in reassurance;  
"I'll be fine" The immortal insists, with a not-quite-convincing smile and a nod that's a little too quick.  
She stands and turns her back to Thelma.  
"I need to take a shower." Ella murmurs, then adds with a slightly plaintive note in her voice: "Undo my corset for me?"  
The ghost pauses - this had always been Leon's task. Stepping up behind the Anointed One and knowing that she needs to be strong and reassuring for her friend, Thelma reaches out and carefully but with a confidence she wasn't sure she possessed, unties the cords at the rear of the garment. Ella takes off the corset and lets it fall to the floor, then pulls over her head the short-sleeved top she wears under the corset and also discards it. Reaching down, she takes off her boots, undoes her jeans, pulls both them and her knickers down her legs in one swift movement and steps out of them. Only the black lacy bra is left, and it undoes at the front. Ella reaches for the clasp;  
"Let me." Thelma says softly into her ear.  
The Anointed One lets her hands fall away as the ghost moves both arms around her, under her armpits and meeting between her breasts. Ella closes her eyes, and although she knows that Thelma doesn't breathe, she imagines she can feel the other girl's warm breath caressing her neck. Expertly releasing the clasp, Thelma moves her hands back behind Ella, taking hold of the bra straps on the Anointed One's shoulders between thumb and forefinger then peeling the garment off the immortal's body. Ella turns and faces Thelma, as naked as the ghost had been earlier, and equally unembarrassed.  
"If I could hold you now, I would." Thelma says simply.  
"I know." Ella replies, and there's a lengthy pause before she speaks again: "We don't have much time. You need to see Peggy. Tell her I said thanks. For everything."  
Thelma looks at Ella for a couple of long seconds, then smiles slightly and nods.  
"Will do." The ghost confirms, then she picks up the shotgun leaning against the wall, turns and heads for the door.  
She stops and looks back, starts to say something -  
"Go." The Anointed One states in an understanding but firm tone that brooks no argument, then glances at the clock. "We'll meet up at the New Church's headquarters in four hours."  
Thelma accepts this with another nod;  
"Don't start without me." She says. 

Cut to Corvide's quarters in the New Church's London headquarters. Roxy is still stood transfixed at the foot of bed, gazing at Jo and Corvide. The two women are lying in each other's arms, breathing softly in unison, their eyes closed and their bodies pressed together. The blissful look on Corvide's face is just about the most peaceful thing that Roxy has ever seen, and remembering those same features contorted due to experiencing unbearable physical sensations just a few minutes earlier seems so impossible that the ghost almost doubts her own memory. Gently kissing the lilin on the forehead, Jo looks up at Roxy;  
"Did you enjoy it?" The ex-teacher asks bluntly, the question breaking the ghost out of her near-trance.  
"I..." Roxy pauses, feeling awkward and slightly ridiculous, before deciding that honesty is the best response in this situation;  
"Yes." She says, with a firmness that surprises her, but which she doesn't regret.  
"Good. I'm glad." Jo purrs, staring directly into the ghost's eyes. "I wonder... if you weren't dead, Roxy... if you still had a tangible body that could touch and be touched... how long do you think it would me take to break you...?"  
The ex-teacher lets the question hang in the air. Roxy nervously tries to shallow, but her mouth and throat are suddenly very dry. She wonders if this is what a canary in a cage feels like, when a cat is prowling and staring at it intently on the other side of the bars.  
"How much would you resist?" Jo continues, when Roxy fails to answer. "And would it be more enjoyable - for both of us - if you put up a fierce struggle, or just succumbed quickly?"  
"I guess we'll never know." Says Roxy, finally finding her voice and trying to sound more confident than she feels.  
"I suppose." Ponders Jo with an amused smile, still fixing the ghost with her gaze.  
After several seconds, the ex-teacher looks at Corvide, still resting in her embrace, before glancing again at Roxy;  
"My son will be arriving shortly." She tells the spectre. "I'm correct in assuming that you're here to say goodbye to him?"  
Roxy nods.  
"In your way, I know you've done your best for him Roxy. He killed you for his own selfish gain, but you forgave him. And for the last five years you've never given up hope in him. I thank you for that. Leave us now. Go and await his arrival." Jo commands.  
"I know what you're planning. Aren't you worried I'll warn him?" Roxy asks, to which Jo merely shakes her head slightly.  
"Feel free to tell him whatever you wish. It will make no difference to the outcome." The ex-teacher replies.  
Roxy gazes at Jo for a long moment, then walks from the room. Jo waits until she hears the ghost close the door behind her before turning her attention to her P.A.  
"Corvide." She whispers, and the lilin stirs and opens her completely black eyes to gaze at Jo in silent wonder, as though now able to see a world much wider than the one she had previously occupied.  
"Little one... do you know now how I feel about you?" Jo asks softly.  
"Yes, mistress." Corvide murmurs warmly. "You accept me for who and what I am. You appreciate my loyalty, value my friendship... and you trust me. You trust me implicitly."  
"And I treasure your love for me." Jo tells her. "But this is all I can ever give you."  
"It will sufficient, mistress." The lilin assures her.  
Jo suddenly raises a hand and places a quietening finger on Corvide's mouth.  
"No. You are not to call me by any title." The ex-teacher gently insists "Jo. Call me Jo."  
"Yes... Jo." The lilin says hesitantly, clearly pleased but surprised.  
The telephone on the table by Corvide's side of the bed rings.  
"I should -" The changling begins, and Jo nods;  
"Of course." The ex-teacher confirms, and Corvide rolls over and picks up the receiver.  
"Yes?" The lilin says expectantly into the mouthpiece.  
Jo watches as her P.A. listens to the caller for several seconds.  
"I see. Thank you for informing me." Corvide eventually murmurs, then replaces the receiver and rolls back to face Jo;  
"It appears we have a guest. Her personal helicopter just landed on the helipad and deposited her before taking off again." She reports. "Berlin Carlton."  
Upon hearing this, Jo's face creases with amusement. The ex-teacher rolls onto her back and regards the ceiling with a smile.  
"Malachi and Alex are gathering their forces before confronting me." She realises, barely suppressing a giggle. "They're calling in re-enforcements. And so they've brought in the _socialite_."  
Jo starts to laugh, unable to restrain herself any longer. 

Cut to Ella in the shower, eyes closed, standing still and simply letting the water beat down and flow over her. Over the sound of the cascade she hears a noise coming from the main living room. Opening her eyes she listens carefully for a couple of seconds.  
"Thelma?" She asks.  
No response. The Anointed One switches the shower off, opens the cubicle door, grabs a white towel and wraps it around herself. Stepping out of the cubicle and softly closing it behind her, she cautiously pads over to the bathroom door and stands there for several moments, listening intently, trying to gauge what - if anything - is on the other side. Eventually, she slowly turns the door handle and silently opens the door, peering out into the living room. Ella catches a brief glimpse of a flowing mass of red and green hair, then a fist clad in a black fingerless leather glove slams into her face. Caught by surprise, the Anointed One staggers a couple of steps backwards before regaining her balance and halting herself. Looking up, she sees Mary Warren standing framed in the doorway to the main living area, wearing her bright blue biker's jacket and matching skin-tight leather trousers. Smiling, Mary raises the hand with which she threw the punch and makes a show of flexing her fingers;  
"Clearly I have issues." She declares.  
Ella's response is immediate. Striding across the bathroom floor to close the gap between them, she launches a series of blows at her former apprentice, using both arms in a flurry of movement. Mary blocks each punch and jab effortlessly, reading Ella's thoughts and reacting to what her fellow Anointed One is going to do before Ella's limbs have even begun to respond to her brain's commands. Mary actually _laughs_.  
"I can keep doing this all day, you know." The leather-clad immortal informs her opponent.  
After several further seconds of trying to break through Mary's defences without success, Ella ends the stalemate by quickly stepping back a couple of paces, making space between the two of them. Grabbing the edge of the towel she's wearing, the auburn-haired Anointed One whisks it off her body in one quick movement and - while keeping hold of one end - whips it toward Mary's face, the towel making a sharp snapping sound as it smacks the air. Still smiling, Mary raises a forearm in front of her face and the towel wraps harmless round it. Ella tugs at the towel to retrieve it, but only succeeds in tightening it around Mary's arm. The two immortals regard each other, the towel pulled taut between them. Mary runs her gaze over the naked body of her former mentor. Droplets of water are beaded on Ella's skin, and her hair hangs wet and heavy.  
"Looking good, Ella. You've kept in shape." The younger woman comments, then she affixes on the slanting scar above Ella's left breast. "That's new though. Anyone I know?"  
Ella ignores the question.  
"Why are you here Mary?" She demands firmly.  
In response, the leather-clad Anointed One tilts her head slightly and raises a bemused eyebrow, as though the answer was obvious;  
"The walking sex-aid that you called your boyfriend is dead. I've come to gloat." She says simply, then suddenly yanks her arm.  
Caught by surprise, Ella is pulled towards Mary, who half-turns and launches a powerful high kick that hits Ella in the stomach, sending the older immortal flying backwards, crashing though the closed glass door of the shower cubicle. The back of Ella's skull strikes the tiled wall of the shower with a sickening _crack_, hitting it so hard that her head bounces forward before she collapses into the shower tray in a limp heap, a couple of badly cracked tiles and a splatter of blood marking the impact on the wall. Mary's long legs stride purposely across the bathroom floor and she steps into the cubicle, fragments of glass crunching under her high-heeled boots. Arms by her sides, she looks down at her fellow Anointed One: Ella is barely conscious, her eyes have rolled back and are showing almost completely white, and her limbs are twitching. She's going into shock. Mary crouches down on one knee, her left arm thrown back like a piston, hand balled into a fist.  
"You know, I used to love watching you sleep." She says warmly, gazing at Ella's stricken features.  
Mary throws the punch straight at Ella's face. Cut to black. We hear the _thud_ as the blow connects. 

On-screen caption: To Be Continued.


End file.
